#how do you stop a hand knit sweater from curling at the edges? how do you stop a cheap ring from turning your skin green?

[alpinezro]

on s2 of the bear but im still not over my ex best friend/partner/fiance so every time denmark gets brought up i shrivel up into a little raisin and fade into dust

[boyfriendstevie]

“Do I turn you on that much?” “You don’t even fucking know.”  + "Behave." with stevie 😌

first blurb for the celebration!! join here :) fem!reader, wc: 765

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“Behave.” 

The word is muttered quietly from behind you, only loud enough for you to hear. You can’t see Steve’s face, but you can picture it; jaw clenched, brows furrowed, a light pink blooming on his cheeks. You’re not even really trying to tease, but you’re not not trying, and you know the way you’re pressing against him is riling him up. And okay, maybe the holiday party for Steve’s new company isn’t the best place to tease him, but it’s hard not to. 

It’s hard not to when he looks this good in his cable knit sweater and glasses, hair a bit messy from the hat he’d been wearing, scarf draped around his shoulders. He’s perfect. Perfect husband material, which is just your luck, considering you’ve got a new, shiny ring on your finger. 

You hum softly in acknowledgment, but lean back again anyway, your ass pressing into the crotch of his pants. One more slight movement against him, and that’s all it takes for him to curl an arm around your waist, leaning in to whisper, “Bathroom. Now.”

Excusing yourself, you quickly make your way to the nearest bathroom, which, luckily, is single use. You slip inside and lock the door, waiting for Steve. Hopefully you won’t have to wait all that long, but you’re not sure how pissed Steve is, and that will totally make a difference. 

After a few minutes of pacing back and forth in the small space, thighs clenching at the thought of what he might do, there’s a knock at the door. You pause, unsure if it’s really Steve, but when you hear, “You okay, honey?” muffled through the door, you know it’s him. You rush to unlock it and crack the door just a bit, but it’s enough for Steve to slip through. 

“You’re a menace, you know that?” he huffs, locking the door behind him and surging towards you. His hands cup your jaw, and he’s kissing you like it’s his last chance. 

You gasp into his mouth, fingers twisting into the soft fabric of his sweater as he pushes you back towards the counter, lips never leaving yours. His hands are warm on your hips, even through the layers of fabric you have on. He pulls back after a moment to take a breath, lips pink and shiny, and squeezes your sides roughly, “Up.”

He helps you up onto the counter, and slots himself between your thighs. The tights you’re wearing catch on a snag in the counter and rip, a run going up the side of your leg that has you pouting, pulling away from Steve’s kiss, “Oh… my tights.”

“Ya don’t need ‘em anyway,” he mumbles against the curve of your jaw, warm hands pushing up and under your skirt. His fingertips press into the rip, and before you can stop him, he pulls quickly, effectively tearing your tights in two. 

You gasp, eyes darting up to Steve’s, “Steve! What—“

“I’ll buy you new ones, promise,” he says softly as his fingers travel up your thigh towards your underwear after discarding the ripped fabric of your tights. 

His touch is enough to distract you, warm against the soft skin of your thighs. They travel in, and your legs spread further apart, revealing your panties, a spot in the center wet with slick. Steve hums, a pleased sound, and you squirm under his gaze. He’s so fucking hot tonight, you can barely stand it. 

Two fingers press against the wet spot growing on your panties, and a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, the beginnings of a smirk. “Fuck, baby. Y’so wet, soaking through your panties, huh? All this just for me? Do I really turn you on that much?”

You moan at that, partially at the way he’s touching you with the barest amount of pressure, but also at his words, the tone of his voice. Shivering, you try to move in closer, hips rolling against Steve’s hand. Your fingers curl over the edge of the counter as Steve pulls your panties aside and slips two fingers into you. It’s bliss. It’s torture. You need more. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, trying to find the words to answer Steve, knowing he’ll probably stop if you don’t, “Y-you don’t even fucking know, Stevie. So hot, and all— all mine.”

It must be the right answer, because Steve grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw. And before you can say anything else, his fingers push deep and then curl, barely brushing the spot that will make you see stars, making you keen, “That’s my girl.”

join the celebration! 

[forlorn-crows]

More non-serious sex brainrot: Mountain casual fucking. Guy just needs to get off, y'know? It's been a hard day of manipulating the fabric of the earth itself and the big guy just needs to blow off some steam by blowing out someone's back. Or getting his own blown out.

Walks into the ghoul wing and propositions the first person he sees. And, of course, who wouldn't be willing to lend a hand to help a friend out?

uhhh well you see. he didnt even make it out of the greenhouse. so, as a reward for being the sweetie that he is, rain gets his back blown out

cw: theyr'e disgustingly in love. good ole' fashioned spontaneous sex. a lil bit of oral, a lil bit of dirty talk. hard and fast and needy, and thats how we like it. unexpected knotting (oopsies). and, as always, transmasc rain. cunt/clit/folds to refer to his anatomy.

Mountain sets the last of the hanging baskets back into place, sighing bodily. He rolls his neck, wincing at the little pops his spine makes. But he’s satisfied with his work—all the flowers and ferns pruned and their soil refreshed—and very glad to be done. 

The earth ghoul brushes the remainder of the soil off the workbench, finally allowing the stifled need in his core to roll up his spine and settle under his skin. He digs his claws into the wood and groans out loud. Curling in on himself when his dick starts to chub.

The door to the greenhouse squeaks open, chilly autumn air rolling in along with the scent of petrichor and sea salt. Mountain has to stop himself from whining at the fresh, intoxicating smell. 

“Hey, sunflower,” Rain says brightly, drifting in with a dancer’s grace. “Brought you some tea and snacks.” He sets a shallow bowl and mug down onto the bench, pressing himself to Mountain’s side and kissing him on the cheek. “Orange cinnamon chai,” he points to the steaming mug, resting his head on the earth ghoul’s shoulder, “and there,” he points at the bowl, “are figs, pears, and some brie drizzled with honey. ‘Cause I know that’s your favorite.”

Mountain chuffs and dips a finger into a smear of honey on the edge of the bowl. He sucks it off, looking down at Rain with lidded eyes. Admiring the way the wind ruffled up his inky curls, the slight lilac blush to his cheeks, the little smile he gives when Mountain makes a noise of approval. 

“Do I detect a hint of honeysuckle, tadpole?”

Rain feigns surprise, looking up at him coyly. “Maybe,” he lilts.

Mountain rumbles happily and leans in close. “Just as sweet as you.” He cradles the water ghoul’s face in his hand and kisses him deeply, melting their bodies together chest to chest. Groaning when Rain opens up immediately and lets him stick his honey-coated tongue inside. 

The earth ghoul lifts him effortlessly onto the top of the workbench, wrapping Rain’s legs around his waist and hugging him close, all without breaking the kiss. Rain trills happily and sinks into Mountain’s affection. He drapes his arms around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the mousy-brown strands falling from his bun. The action sends a shiver down Mountain’s spine, and he can’t help but gasp softly against the water ghoul’s mouth. His fingers tighten into the knit of Rain’s sweater. 

“Feed me some?” Mountain mumbles against his lips. 

Rain smiles. “‘Kay.” He turns his head to select a morsel, giving Mountain access to the long column of his neck. Eager lips surge forward to latch onto the sensitive skin. Mountain can feel the amused rumble that bubbles up in his throat.

“Don’t eat me, silly,” he laughs. “Here.” He holds a slice of pear between lithe fingers, dangling it in front of his nose.

“What if I want to eat you,” Mountain purrs. But he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue for it anyway. He curls it around Rain’s lithe fingers when he places the fruit in his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he licks across the pads of them. Chilled and sticky-sweet.

Rain makes a soft noise, letting Mountain lick them clean. 

“Do you like it?” Rain whispers, watching as the earth ghoul closes his mouth around the tops of his fingers before pulling away and chewing. Mountain watches Rain watch his mouth, eyes flitting around his pretty, angular face. 

He hums and licks a stray droplet of honey from his lips. “It’s delicious, darling. Thank you,” he says huskily, pulling Rain closer by the waist. Rain trills as he runs his palms across the small of his back, dipping just underneath his sweater. Mountain buries his nose in the collar of it and not-so-subtly humps his hips against the edge of the table. 

“But I think I fancy something else right now.” Mountain nuzzles under his ear. Rain’s scent spikes with arousal and he can’t hold back the desire any longer. “Wanted to bend you over this bench as soon as you walked in the door.”

Rain shudders and groans approvingly. “Yeah?”

“Say you’ll let me. Please? I’ve been aching.” Mountain licks up the side of his neck and sucks his earlobe into his mouth. Rolling it between his teeth while Rain hisses and grasps at Mountain’s hair. “Take you right here, fuck you so good.”

“Fuck yes,” Rain breathes. “Right here, please do.” 

Mountain doesn’t need any more permission than that. He growls playfully and promptly flips Rain onto his belly, bending him over the edge of the workbench and yanking his sweatpants down all in one motion. 

“Lucifer—” Rain gasps through a surprised giggle, lifting his tail over his shoulder. 

Mountain lands a smack to his right asscheek and grabs two handfuls of him, groaning at the sight of slick already seeping through his folds. He spreads his cheeks wide and sinks to his knees in the dirt, shoving his face in Rain’s cunt. 

“Satanas, Mount, oh fff,” the water ghoul moans, pounding his fist on the table. “Your fucking mouth, unholy shit.”

Mountain groans against him, shoving his tongue in as far as he can get it. Pressing his nose into that soft spot before his hole and taking in the concentrated smell of need that goes straight to his rock-hard dick. 

“Taste like absolute sin, tadpole,” Mountain mumbles against his folds, too drunk on his flavor to stray too far to say so. 

“You can stay down there as long as you want,” Rain chokes out as he seals his lips over his throbbing clit. “Suck me dry, seven hells.”

The earth ghoul just hums, suckling on it until his nose gets wet with slick and Rain’s panting above him. Digging into his round ass so hard he’s bound to leave marks. But he doesn’t take him up on the offer, pulling away after a few heated moments. 

“Wanted to make sure you were nice and wet for me,” he all but growls. “Gonna fill you up so full.”

Rain whines and peeks over his shoulder, eyes drooping in pleasure. He wiggles his hips as he watches Mountain strip his apron, arching his back to make sure he gets a perfect eyeful. 

Mountain licks his lips as he pulls himself out of his pants, not bothering to push them any further than past his balls—just enough to expose his aching length. He grips himself and teases Rain’s folds with the head of his cock, up and down until he’s coated in creamy slick. 

“Fuck, look at you,” Mountain whines. “So perfect. All afternoon, I’ve needed this. Needed you.”

Rain pushes back, popping the head of his cock right inside. Mountain has to stop himself from blowing right there, steadying himself with one hand on Rain’s hip and groaning when his balls draw up with no warning. 

“Show me how perfect. Take me,” the water ghoul begs sweetly, breathlessly. 

Mountain can’t wait any longer. He pushes all the way in, melding their hips together. Growling low as Rain squeezes around him and breathes out little yesyesyes’s, urging Mountain to snuggle into that space made just for his cock. The earth ghoul’s forehead drops between Rain’s shoulder blades as he bottoms out, keening at just how good he feels. 

Mountain tells him as much. Rumbles endless praise into the fibers of his sweater, the curls at the back of his neck. Shuddering as Rain arches back into him and digs his fingers into the wood. 

“So perfect,” Mountain mumbles again, beginning to move. The first real slide of his length against those smooth, silky inner walls makes his mind hazy with need. He doesn’t get more than one slow thrust before he’s fucking Rain in earnest, wrapping his arms around his hips and forcing him to take it deep. 

“Mine,” he growls over the lewd sound of skin slapping skin. 

“Yours,” the water ghoul cries. “Oh, fuck me, ye-e-es-ss.” 

Mountain digs into his slim hips. Holding him tight so Rain feels the tip of his cock all the way in his stomach with each thrust.

“Feel so good,” the earth ghoul grunts. Rain clenches around him and he nearly sees stars. “Lucifer, take it, take it.”

Rain just nods, gurgles out something incoherent. Words aren’t important to Mountain anymore, though, not really. He just needs the water ghoul to make pretty noises, soak his cock in slick, and take every inch of him until he can spill inside him hot and fast. Siphon the burning need out of his core so he can actually relax after working all day. 

“Mount,” Rain gasps. “So deep, unholy shit.”

“Yeah? Gonna give it to you,” he growls, snapping his hips even harder. Each time their hips meet, there’s a little resistance at the base of Mountain’s cock, spikes of pleasure running through his hips and down his thighs with each thrust. He realizes too late it’s his knot, swelling and bumping against Rain’s folds. Growing bigger by the minute until it’s impossible to ignore.

“Hmpf, Rain I—” Another shudder runs through him, white-hot and insistent. He snarls. “Please, let me—fuck—need to put it in.”

Rain drops his forehead to the worktable with an audible thunk, groaning as he presses back against his knot. “Uh huh,” he whines. 

“Tell me I can, please, darling, tell me I can.”

“Put it iiinnn, Mount—hah—gimme it, need it.”

Mountain nearly sobs with relief. “So good to me, so fucking good to me,” he babbles. “Just need a little—that’s it, seven hells, Rainy.”

The water ghoul arches as far as he can, letting Mountain fully support his hips with just his forearms. Each thrust pushes more and more of his knot in, until finally Rain’s cunt stretches around its widest point and sucks him right in. Popping in with a wet squelch and the daintiest oh Mountain’s let out yet. 

“Fuck—”

“So good, squeeze it, squeeze it—”

“—yeah—”

“—cumming, cumming, Rain oh—”Mountain spills deep inside with fangs latched in his mate’s sweater, and he swears he’ll do anything Rain wants once he’s spent.

[wraithsoutlaws]

omg 10 on the soft prompts for Dagger and DD

10) Write about your ship helping each other get ready for the day in the morning.

cw: brief self-harm mention (not explicit) “Hey,” Dagger hummed, nudging an elbow into Dum Dum’s ribs. A car horn blared outside the window followed by the ringing echo of a gunshot on the wind. The soothing white noise of life in Northside hadn’t ceased for a moment all night. Dagger didn’t flinch at either, seamlessly focusing his attention back to his hands–the half knitted sweater between them, and the blood stain drying into the soft fabric. “It’s eleven.”

Dum Dum turned over. The mattress shifted, and Cockroach scurried out from underneath the ‘borg’s arm, quickly finding a new bed in the crook of Dagger’s neck. He greeted him with a sniff before plopping down sideways and curling into a ball unbothered. If he had to, the rat could sleep through nuclear war. He thought it’s possible that Dum Dum could too. After another minute, Dagger turned the knitting needle in his palm and jabbed the end into a crevice between wires in the hardware of his back.

“Fucker,” he groaned. 

“You asked for it.”

“Mm.” 

He still didn’t move. Dagger reached over his body for his smokes on the nightstand and lit one, voice flat. Uninterested. “Royce’ll have your ass if you’re late.”

He couldn’t give two shits what Royce wanted or not, but Dum Dum pulled himself up at the prospect, optics brightening in the dark room. A faint whirring kicked on like an old fan, the familiar sound of a stubborn body coming back alive. It’d quiet as quickly as the smell of burning chrome would fade. 

“You sleep any?” Dum Dum asked.

Dagger spun yarn over his needle before his hand was pulled away and examined. The two cuts on his palm had stopped bleeding. One for each time he dozed off. Dum Dum almost frowned when he ripped it away.

No. He hadn’t slept any. 

“How many days is that?”

“It don’t matter.”

Dum Dum didn’t question it. He knew it had been three anyway, and by tomorrow it wouldn’t matter how many drugs he inhaled or how many cuts laced those palms, he’d crash hard and dream bad. But tonight he was calm. 

“What’s it today?” Dum Dum asked, shifting his focus to the tiny sweater spinning between Dagger’s fingers and when he held it up, he snorted. “Rat’s got more clothes than I do.”

“He chills easy,” Dagger said plainly. 

When the chrome cooled beneath Dum Dum’s skin he stood, stretching out the cramps leftover from a still night. Metal left him heavy, and took its toll on the soft spots in between. Sometimes Dagger could hear it creak like a rusty hinge. He moved slower after waking.

“You coming tonight?” He asked as he dragged his feet toward the gun stash across the room, snatching up a pair of discarded pants on the way. 

Dagger grinned up at him, a gleam flashing in his eyes that suggested something more lascivious to the words. His voice lowered, a purr thick with smoke. “You want me to?”

Dum Dum almost stumbled as he pulled on his pants, but he remained unreadable aside from the slight quirk at the edge of his lips. “I meant to the factory, asshole.”

“You know I don’t mind an audience.”

“Dunno anyone else wants to see your pasty ‘ganic ass.”

Dagger’s smile evened out and his gaze returned to the sweater. “Well, seems to me you already answered your own question.”

Nobody wanted him at All Foods. He didn’t take that personally. Usually, he showed up anyway, but sometimes it wasn’t worth eating shit. In the corner of his vision, he could see Dum Dum disappear behind the makeshift plastic curtain that separated one room of the small apartment from the next. The clink of gunmetal sounded like wind chimes as he loaded his weapon for later. 

Dagger was almost finished with the sweater when the pillow beside him exploded with faux-feathers. He looked down to see his own knife laying next to him, the end of the blade just barely buried into the fabric. He followed the trajectory back to the gun stash, where Dum Dum stood impatiently. He rose a brow at him. 

“You should come,” he said, sliding his revolver into the back of his pants. “I  like seeing your pasty ‘ganic ass.”

Dagger found it suddenly difficult to move his fingers. He couldn’t help but look down, checking his chest, certain that the knife had actually nestled into his ribcage instead of the pillow. It was the only thing that explained the twisting knot growing near to his heart. But there was nothing.

He looked up again.

Dum Dum had come closer. This time he threw that cracked leather jacket painted with Maelstrom’s insignia straight at him. It hit like a truck, hard enough that even Cockroach’s head popped up in annoyance.

“C’mon,” Dum Dum insisted. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a small jar of Dagger’s facepaint, the black that he drowned his eyes in. He forced the glass into Dagger’s blood stained hand. “Royce’ll have our ass if we’re late.”

Dagger had a hard time prying his eyes from him. He couldn’t stop the smile cutting across his lips any better than he could will the beat of his heart to steady.

“Fuck Royce,” he said.

But he worked open the lid to paint his face, and hurried anyway. 

[anglbrkr]

more father james please i beg 🙏

yes i love that nasty bitch CW: amab and thigh fucking, other than that, nothin' important 1.2k words

[N]'s fingers trail along the floral patterns of the wallpaper, admiring the curling patterns of the olive green vines, ending in blooming buds. Father James has a lovely home, near the edges of town, bordering the woods, all of the decorations are in the taste of his late mother, a woman whose pictures hang on many walls and lie on an abundance of shelves. It's something he's noticed since he arrived the night before, when James put the frame face down before crawling on top of him, giving more reason to cause [N]'s limp.

He woke up warm and with an aching ass, weakly throwing slurred curses at a groggy James, who seemed far too pleased about it. Now he manages to walk around the old walls of the home, drinking tea while listening to the distant sounds of pouring water and wind chimes clinking together. He shivers, the cold air assaulting his bare legs. He really should've opted to wear one of James' pants to go with the knit sweater that hangs loosely at his shoulders.

"You know, when she made me that sweater it didn't fit me that well either," the priest's voice came from behind, as well as his arms, wrapping themselves around [N]'s middle. "She was never that good at predetermining the size of what she would knit."

"Are you speaking ill of your mother's knitting?" [N] bites his lip, stopping a laugh from leaving him. James snorts, pulling him in closer.

"Don't give her a reason to haunt me."

[N] places his mug on the table against the wall, next to a small flower vase, a silent confirmation that James had all his attention. The priest kisses the skin the sweater fails to cover, lips against [N]'s shoulder blades and dipping down to suckle hungrily at his collarbone. [N] trembles slightly beneath James', biting his lip to hold back the moan that threatens to escape his parted mouth. He turns his head, searching James' eyes. A smirk touches the corners of his lips.

"So, how long am I allowed to stay here?" He asks, turning his head and brushing his nose against James'. He inhales deeply, feeling his hot breath against his skin.

"Ideally, you'd never leave," He replies huskily into [N]'s ear, continuing to nibble and lick at his neck. His tongue flicks teasingly over the exposed skin below his chin, sucking just hard enough for [N] to feel the heat of it, eliciting a whimper. His body is turned and pushed against the wall, roughly, but he doesn’t seem to care, losing himself in James’ warm hands caressing his bare flesh, trailing under the borrowed sweater. His eyes fluttered close, feeling the priest’s fingers gently circling his nipples, pulling and tweaking the tips. His mind is only able to register the sensation.

"Well, that's certainly an answer." [N] answers absently, letting his hand slide down between them, cupping at the bulge in James' sweatpants, he wasn't hard, but he wasn't entirely flaccid, either. His other hand caressed the older man's naked chest, squeezing and kneading the muscles underneath, watching the cross necklace dangling between his pecs. He looked up at James through hooded eyes, unapologetically. He doesn't get to register James' reaction before his front is pushed against the wall, causing him to groan. "Make up your mind, will you," he sighs, but isn't displeased, feeling the older man's clothed erection against his bare behind.

"It's for my own good," James whispers, tugging his sweats down, stroking his shaft before pressing them between [N]'s thighs. "Your eyes do things to me."

[N]'s eyes threaten to roll back, feeling the older man's shaft press and rub against the underside of his balls, jutting upward until they meet with his groin. When James moves them upwards again, [N] gasps, unable to repress a shudder.

His eyes widen in surprise at the sudden movement, but he quickly shuts them reflexively once his arousal hits full force. "What're-"

"Squeeze."

[N]'s almost embarrassed by how quickly he did as told, squeezing his thighs together, pressing Father James' cock between them. He hears him shudder, hands at his hips as he thrusts between the younger man's thighs, rocking his pelvis as [N] whimpers, a quiet sound that makes James grin.

[N] moans quietly, squeezing tight around the shaft. It felt so much better than his fingers. "God.." He breathes out, his thoughts swimming in lust. Just the stimulation of the older man's cock rubbing underneath his sack had his head reeling. He wanted more, everything.

James leans down, kissing [N]'s neck, biting lightly at the spot right beside his ear. "That's it," He praises, feeling [N] move with the rhythm he's set, gripping tighter around his member. "Just a bit more," He tells him, holding him firmly by the hips as he rocks against the younger man.

James kisses [N]'s neck softly, hearing him gasp. He watches the way [N] holds his breath as his pace picks up, moving faster and roughening against the young man's thighs. [N] grips the hem of the oversized sweater, pulling it up slightly to watch the way James' girth parts his thighs, both of their tips leaking precum onto the hardwood floor beneath them.

A growl escapes James' throat when [N] squeezes harder, he kisses [N] on the cheek, keeping up his steady rhythm, slowly increasing his speed. There's not even a single moment of respite before [N] responds to every motion, moaning loudly each time James pressed against his inner thigh. He peers over the younger man's shoulder, catching the same sight that's hypnotizing him. James' brain short circuits, tugging the old thing up from the younger man's body, not really caring where it lands. He presses his chest against [N]'s nude back, pressing deeper into him as he slides a hand along [N]'s hip to cup his rear, groping for handfuls of firm muscle.

"Oh God," [N] mutters lowly, panting heavily now, pushing back towards James, wanting more contact with his body. "James," He says, trying to pull back and push back at the same time, though it proves difficult with his thighs squeezed so tightly. He wonders if he could lose circulation through this. If the older man replies, then it's muffled against his neck. There's a burning cold against his back, where the cool metal of the cross around the priest's neck meets his hot skin. His hand sinks to his crotch, jerkily rubbing himself, eyes rolling back as his thumb presses over his slit, rubbing over the weeping head.

Though James can’t see the face [N] is making at the moment, his imagination conjures images from the night before, hell, even from a few hours ago, of the younger man’s face twisted in pleasure, jaw slack as his glassy eyes cross. He could hump his cock between his thighs for all eternity if he had the chance, chasing his pleasure like a desperate mutt in heat; his fingers dig into [N]'s hips, gripping tight as he grinds himself against the young man.

But [N] needs more. He pushes against the priest's stomach, desperate. "Father..." His voice breaks off on another sharp intake of breath.

Such a sweet plea. It'd be a crime for James not to oblige.

[foolforharrry]

Where Were We?

Summary: Harry has been couped up in his office with meetings all day and you're craving attention

Word Count: 1.5k words

Warnings: Smut, oral sex (male receiving), teasing, orgasm denial

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. And if you have any requests, I'd be more than happy to try and write them

Let me know if you want a part 2

Thank you to @harryistheonlyoneforme for the idea :)

Harry had been busy with meetings for the past four hours. Holed up in the office with his computer out as he was discussing various topics regarding his new album. Which he still won’t tell you the name of.

The little tease.

You’ve tried busying yourself with scrolling through tiktok. But that gold old pretty fast. Now the laundry is handled and you’ve run out of excuses to peak your head through the open door to get a sneak peak of what your husband is working on.

Harry had woken you up this morning with soft kisses all over your face before telling you that he had a lot of meetings he had to attend for his upcoming album.

Important meetings, he’d said.

After standing in the doorway for about three minutes, Harry finally notices your presence, smiling softly at you before redirecting his attention to the man he is talking to, snaping back in the conversation immediately.

His brown curls are pinned away from his forehead by one of the small clips he is always carrying around with him. His upper body covered in a knitted lilac sweater. But since the only thing in view is pretty much from his chest and up, he didn’t feel it necessary to put on anything other than a pair of black briefs.

His long, tan legs completely bare underneath the desk. His knees pointing outwards from how he is crossing his ankles.

The sight of his tiger tattoo inked across the powerful muscles gives you an idea.

The desk is pretty tall and lucky for you doesn’t have any drawers. So with Harry’s voice in your ears talking about things you don’t really understand, you make you way over to the edge of the desk before you drop to your knees.

You can practically feel Harry’s eyes bore into you when you crawl underneath the furniture. The carpet is definitely going to be uncomfortable against your bare knees, but you couldn’t give five fucks about it as you situate yourself on your knees right in front of him. His lap is at eye level with you.

Harry swallows audibly when you make eye contact with him, making you blink innocently at him.

When you lean the side of your face against the inside of his left thigh, he clears his throat, “I’ll mute myself for a second, mate.” You hear him push a button. Then another. Likely turning off his microphone and camera as you slide your hand from his knee and to the bottom of his briefs, lifting it up before letting it smack back against his thigh.

“Am I interrupting anything, my love?”, you ask. Knowing damn well that you are.

Harry tilts his head back, inhaling a deep, controlled breath before he suddenly grabs your wrist, pushing your hand away from his crotch. “What do you think you’re doing, y/n. I’m in a fucking meeting.” He hisses in an attempt to sound bothered. But the way his pupils are blown to the point where there is hardly any green left in his irises and his briefs are tightening significantly tells you that he is anything but.

Plus. The idea of getting caught has always been a major turn on for the both of you. Whether it’s having sex in the bathroom stall of a packed restaurant or Harry answering the phone and making you hold up a conversation while eating you out like his life depends on it.

“Do you want me to stop?” You kiss the soft skin on the inside of thigh, watching as the wheels turn in his head. “Cause I could get up and wait for you to finish. Or I can make you finish right here. Up to you.”

Harry smirks at you. That devious smirk that means you’re gonna be in big trouble. “You better get started then, princess. I’ve probably only got a couple minutes left before I can find an excuse to hang up.”

“Better get to work then, big boy.” Harry shakes his head at you, bending far enough to press his lips against yours, murmuring ‘I love you’ before straightening up. Without waiting for you to say it back, he clicks the buttons again.

“Sorry about that, Dean. My wife needed help with something. Where were we?”, he speaks effortlessly as he slips back into the conversation.

You give him almost a minute, not moving a muscle as you watch him discuss the track list for his new album. Gesturing with his hands as he talks the same way he always does. But when you do move, palming him over his briefs, you notice how he stops mid-sentence. His eyes flicking down to meet yours momentarily before he is able to collect himself again.

He is already rock hard, his cock straining against the cotton material of his underwear. The thought of you getting him off when one slip up would expose what you two are doing to his colleague had excited him more than you thought it would.

And you can’t lie and say that you’re not throbbing yourself.

“So you’re sure about switching out Sunny Dream for Cinema?”, Dean double checks something they seem to already have discussed. Harry nods, humming in agreement with a sly smile on his face.

He better not be planning some stunt to make you cry like a newborn baby the way he did when he was working on Fine Line.

You tap his hip, tugging on the waistband of his briefs to get him to lift them off the chair so you can get them off him. And he does, trying his best to be discrete about it changing positions entirely. He scoots the chair back just a little bit, folding his arms on his desk as you drag his brief down his legs. His erection hard and red at the tip from the blood flowing through the veins running along the sides of his dick.

You scoot further between his legs as you wrap your hand around his massive dick, barely putting any pressure. Swiping your thumb over his sensitive tip, you use it as lubricant when you start stroking him more firmly.

Harry struggles more and more to stay focused. His face starts to gain a more colour when you go from chaste kisses to the smooth skin on inside of his thigh to leaving small love bites for your eyes only.

With a smug grin on your face you lick a stripe from the base of his shaft, along the velvety skin before swirling your tongue around his tip.

Instead of taking him in your mouth immediately, you decide to tease him some more.

Fondling his balls in your small hands as you press light kiss from the head of his cock and back down the length of him again. You notice how Harry’s hands are starting to get more fidgety until they eventually drift into your hair to pull your head back up. His fingers pull at your hair hard enough for a delicious, sharp sting to travel from your scalp and down your spine.

You comply with what he wants you to do, wrapping your lips around his tip, relaxing your jaw as you slide your mouth further down his shaft.

The effect you have on Harry is making it difficult to not moan out loud, not wanting to make Dean aware of what’s happening just outside of the camera’s view.

Just Harry’s wife with her mouth on his dick. No biggie. No biggie at all.

After working him with your mouth for a couple of minutes, the words they’re speaking not registering in your mind, you pull off him, the string of saliva connecting you breaks after a few seconds.

The muscles in Harry’s thighs twitch as his free hand grabs your jaw to part your lips again, his fingers digging into the hollows of your cheeks.

You take that as a sign that he is starting to get frustrated with your teasing. Which means that he is exactly where you want him to be.

To rile him up even more, you completely retract your touch from his skin. Sitting back on your ankles so you can start crawling from out under the desk without a word.

Harry stops mid conversation, his hard stare burning into the back of your head as you saunter out of his office, making sure to sway your hips for him.

“Do you have everything you need?”, Harry asks Dean, a new sense of urgency in his tone that wasn’t there before.

The second he has the confirmation that he needed, Harry is saying his goodbyes and thank you faster than you’ve ever heard him speak before.

You slam the door shut behind you, your heart suddenly beating faster in your chest as the nerves start settling in. Quick footsteps down the stairs and for the front door, heavier, steady footsteps behind you.

Now why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?

You gasp when you’re being dragged backwards by your wrist. Your back collides with something solid as Harry’s hissing in your ear, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, darling?”

-

[thepeonysbackup]

◇Satisfaction◇

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: THE LAST PART TO DRY HUMPING??? Thank you guys for liking my dumbassery? Craaaaazy to think any of you would liked this weird brain shit I got goin on in this blog.

Warning: Smut, pure, unadulterated smut. Smut smutty smut smut smut! (Just enjoy-)

Word count: Noneeee! Just made this

“I really am impressed,” Al hissed into your ear as his lips trailed down your neck, fingers working deep into your clenching heat as his other hand kneaded the flesh of your breast from underneath your knitted button-up sweater, “You lasted far longer then I believed you would, but alas you didn't meet my true expectations.” His fingers curled, two digits rocking into the spongey spot right near your entrance, drawing a cry from your lips at the teasing. “I fear you haven't earned me inside you just yet.” Finished with a nip to your ear, tweaking your peak with a roll of his forefinger and thumb as your ground down into his other hand, whines and soft gasps continuing to climb in volume as fireflies hummed and blinked around you both. He'd brought you into the swamplands of his pocket dimensional room, his tie, belt, and cane strewn halfway to where he had worked you up from at the door. Your body relaxed flat against the deer demons chest upon his lap so he could have his way with you as he pleased. It was torture though, the edge that was just close enough to reach always furthering itself as he'd slow his movements or move his thumb from your swollen clit to stop that thread from snapping in two. “N-no- I- But!-” You writhed, hands feverishly trying to find a place to rest as the repetitive edging was starting to become to much. “No, Al.. I'm sorry, I never- I didn't mean—” He hushed you, grinning lips placing another kiss on your skin before he managed to switch your position on his lap, making your legs straddle a single thigh so he could see that begging expression.

That pleading look in your foggy eyes, “I'm afraid I won't be going back on my word, Darling. But I will let you have the release you crave.” He explained while moving his hands from your chest and wet, squelching cunt to your waist, from there he drew your body forward and watched as you jolted and squirmed with a noise of embarrassment from your enjoyment of the feeling. His wicked grin grew, eyes narrowing as his smile twitched until you able to see the blackness that was his gums, “Mm-” Your hips jerked against him, hands coming up to his shoulders as a brace as you began to move yourself, no longer needing Alastors help in the matter as strings of moans and blubbering gasps started up again. Satisfied with your eagerness to please yourself from his teasing attacks on your most sensitive area, he leaned further away, back falling flat onto the grass as his ears flattened against his hair and he growled at the feeling of your wet juices flowing over his pants, your knee grazing his bulge that was oh so noticeable. But not to you. “Fuck- Al.. ‘S not enough.. It's not- I can't..!” You whined, body bending forward so that you were hovering over him, hair coming undone from its once firmly tied place, framing the two of you like a curtain as the radio demons claws slipped behind your head to bring you further down. Your body was laying atop his, hands gripping the grass near the sides of his head as his lips caught you in a kiss that broke your mind in half from the unexpected action and surprising amount of affection placed behind it. He plunged his tongue as far into your mouth as he could, his other hand continuing its guidance of your lower half as your eyes rolled back into your head, and your body began to twitch harder. You were right there, and all he had to do was push you all the way. How lovely for him, to have you in this bind, and not even one with your soul but with your mind. Your leg hiked up and slung over his other thigh, your heat pressing firmly on his straining bulge before you finally could hear a noise bubble from beneath Al's static that crackled. A noise resembling a glitched moan left him, noise transferring into your mouth which you reciprocated as he bit down onto your tongue, blood falling onto his lips which he lapped desperately up before you both flipped over.

You felt the soft grass, hair messy against it as you panted against the man above you’s lips, your legs being tugged upwards as he broke the kiss and buried his face into your shoulder so he could rut down between your legs at a quick pace. “How..” He breathed heavily, eyes failing to focus properly on your blissful expression, “How dare you do this to me.. You filthy thing..!” Those words were dripped in malice, anger from the pleasure you were providing for him when he had only wanted you to break for him. You had, but at what cost to his own pleasure. This grotesquely marvelous feeling he'd detested with his entire soul finally feeling as it should, like he needed it to feel as his hips pushed harder, the throb becoming nearly unbearable. He was there, the gooey warmth finally adding to the damp spot that had nearly dried and then some as it seeped slightly through the fabric, the white stickiness gently coating your lady lips as he continued to rub against you until your own climax hit you like a truck. With a groan of sorts, hands holding him into your chest while your body arched, you came undone against him and allowed your mind to fade as he pulled himself flat down against you with a sigh before darkness consumed you.

[ravenclaw-daydreams]

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐦 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐞

Warnings: smut, adult content, vaginal sex, creampie, oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: You ask Joe what he's been doing while he's been out for the past few nights, and you don't say it, but he knows what you're insinuating. You end up having him sleep on the couch, but in the morning, you wake up to a lovely surprise.

Masterlist

A/n: Needed something to satiate my joe cole yearning so here's some smut or whateva

It had been the third night in a row. The third night in a row where you sat in the exact same chair, trying to finish the exact same book, waiting for your fiancé to get home.

He had been busy the past few nights, that you could understand. But a triple offence of staying out past 3 in the morning didn't sit right with you. You even talked about it with your sister, and you already knew what she was insinuating.

But you continued to give him the benefit of the doubt. You trusted him with everything in you. You had to. You loved him so much, and you trusted that he would always feel the same, regardless of how long he decided to stay out.

But the thought still lingered. It ate at you like a termite to wood. The sudden opening of the front door snapped you out of your intrusive thoughts, your eyes flicking up off the words on the page you weren't even reading.

Joe came around the corner and muttered a small 'fuck' when he saw you sitting in your chair, the lamp next to you illuminating the worry on your face. You gently closed the book after marking the page and set it on the table next to you.

"I think you already know what I'm going to ask you, Joe," you were the first to break the ice, Joe taking his coat off and setting it on the arm of the couch, exposing his maroon cable-knit sweater.

"I just got caught up with my mates, darlin'," he tried to explain, his arms now crossed in defense.

"People don't come back from the pub at three in the morning looking almost completely sober," you were now crossing your own arms, not wanting to jump to conclusions this quickly.

"You know how they can get, I just want to make sure they get home alright."

"And I get that, Joe, I do. But this is the third night in a row you've been out so late," you pointed out, making the man across from you sigh.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I just get carried away sometimes."

You then approached him, letting out a sigh in defeat, now wrapping your arms around him and pressing your face into his shirt. That's when you tensed.

Before he could properly hug you back, you were pulling away, your brows furrowed, a look of betrayal flashing across your face.

"What is that?" you asked, tears welling up in your eyes in spite of yourself, "That perfume isn't mine, Joe, and I know it isn't your cologne, Joe, what is that?"

"What?" he asked, genuinely confused, "Darlin, I have no idea what you're talking about," a look of realization plastered itself on his features, "What are you getting at?" his eyes narrowed.

"Well think about it, Joe! You spend 3 nights taking your sweet time getting home and when you do get home, you smell like someone else!"

"You really don't think I would do that to you...?" he looked hurt, but you looked worse.

"I don't want to. I really, really don't want to, Joe, trust me, but... god I just," you took a second to wipe your tears, "I think it would be best if you slept on the couch tonight, yeah?"

Joe stayed silent as he nodded his head. And with that, he left your line of sight, off to fetch blankets and pillows. That's when you slipped away up the stairs and into the bedroom.

That's when the dam broke and you began to sob, tears you tried so hard to keep in finally being released, your form hunched over as you sat on the edge of the bed, still messy and unmade from your... activities earlier the past morning.

You ended up just changing into panties and one of Joe's band t-shirts, curling up under the covers, dreading the talk that you and your fiance were most likely going to be having when you woke up.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡　　　ﾟ+..｡*ﾟ+

The first thing you felt was warmth. A heat stirring in your core as you tried to brush it off as nothing more than a little morning arousal. But it wasn't until you felt the hand that wrapped around your thigh that your eyes started to force themselves open.

Once you opened your eyes, the sunlight that streamed through the curtains was the first thing that you saw. But then, you felt it fully, and you turned your head, met with the sight of Joe with his head buried between your legs, devouring you know that he knew that you were awake.

Your noises that were once gasps and heavy breaths were now multiplied into moans and whimpers as your fingers went down, gripping his locks as he continued to lick and suck everything he could reach with his mouth, his nose bumping up against your clit.

"Fuck, Joe," you whimpered out, your eyes rolling back as your body felt as if it were going to explode. The coil in your stomach was tightening without letting up, and Joe knew you were close.

To push you over the edge, you felt two of his fingers find their way inside your tight cunt, already wet from his current licking, and you moaned out loudly at the sensation of his fingers opening you up.

"Cum for me," his words were muffled, but the vibrations from his baritone voice sealed your fate, tipping you over the edge as your body tensed up and you whined out, your eyes clenched shut as you felt waves of pleasure crash violently over you.

He helped you ride out your high as your sleepy brain tried to focus itself. You finally were down to earth enough to look down at him, a lazy smile crossing your lips.

"Good morning, love," he started, before making his way up your body and kissing your lips gently, the taste of yourself on his tongue.

"Morning," you lazily smiled.

"You know, about last night,"

"I'm stopping you right there," you started, "Let's just... have our morning, then talk about this later."

Joe smirked and nodded, watching as you shifted yourself downwards, you and him finally realizing how hard he really was after eating you out.

His tip was bright pink and flushed, throbbing as precum leaked from it. You gently wrapped your hand around it. He let out a shuddered breath as he felt you grasp it, swallowing when one of your hands cupped his balls.

Suddenly, he gasped, your lips going around the tip, some tension released as he felt your soft skin against him. Your lips started to slip up and down his shaft, his lips parting as his eyebrows furrowed. His hands found their way to your scalp as you continued your movements.

Abruptly, you pushed yourself all the way down, taking him all the way in, relaxing your throat the best you could as you felt him stretch it out.

"Fuck, love, your mouth is so- fuck" he gasped when you pulled yourself back up, tears welled up in your eyes from trying to suppress your gag reflex.

Your hand continued to stroke him as you did your best to catch your breath, but Joe suddenly stopped you.

"Stop, stop," he panted, "Don't want to cum yet. Want to cum inside you, is that alright?" he asked politely.

Seeing as you were on the pill and he knew that as well, you smiled and nodded, moving swiftly up his frame as you were now face to face.

"Beautiful," he muttered as he raised his hand to caress your cheek as you began to hover yourself over his shaft.

You positioned yourself then slowly descended down, both of you gasping at the sensation of his cock seemingly splitting you open. You couldn't contain your moans as your eyes closed in ecstasy, trying your hardest to adjust yourself.

You struggled with your composure as you continued to bottom yourself out, hushed gasps and whimpers leaving your lips as you felt your tight heat completely cover his hard shaft.

At last, your body finally got used to the familiar feeling of him inside you, causing you to begin smooth and slow movements across his pelvis, making him groan out at the sensation of your heat dragging across his cock.

Up and down you went, doing your best to keep with a rhythm, Joe's groans of bliss driving you to go faster, harder.

Soon enough, you were disregarding the man underneath you, now using him to pleasure yourself as you lost yourself in your own ecstasy. You bounced on him with no motive other than to make yourself cum.

"Come on, love, use that cock," he gasped, "Use that cock to make yourself cum, come on."

His words of encouragement went straight to your core as you felt yourself get closer and closer to the precipice of pleasure. You couldn't help but keen for more, looking like an angel on top of him, sweat sparkling on your chest, your breathless expression enough to make Joe cum right then and there.

Finally, you felt the coil inside you crack like a whip, waves of heat and euphoria crashing over your body, making you tense and shake as you let go, your cunt clenching around your partner's cock like a vice, starting a chain reaction, the feeling of him cumming inside you while you orgasmed almost enough to make you build up again.

You panted as you dismounted him, slipping away to his side on your back, your chest rising and falling with each breath. He helped ground you, wrapping his arms around your blissed-out form, whispering sweet nothings of praise into your ear, telling how amazing you did and how lucky he was to call you his.

"Fuck," you managed to get out through labored breaths, your body still buzzing from your orgasm.

"Fuck is right, love," he smirked, letting his hand mindlessly drift up and down the bare skin of your arms.

After a prolonged silence, you finally spoke, "I trust you."

He looked down at you, grateful that you truly did trust him, trusting that he wouldn't ever do anything like what you thought.

"I love you," he muttered, now holding your face in his hands.

"I love you too."

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bent, not broken 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; drugging, tags to be added throughout series.

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Thank you all for your patience with this :) So happy to get part 2 out!

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The man with the metal arm brought you a set of plain grey clothes. It was the type of shapeless linen given to patients in a long-term facility or inmates at a prison. When you struggled to lift your right shoulder over your head and winced as your ribs throbbed, he helped you get into the long-sleeved shirt, pulling the fabric down gruffly and backing away.

You shoved your feet into the rubber shoes, and held your arm across your middle, as you stood with shoulders curled forward pathetically. You hobbled to the door as he beckoned to you. You were reluctant to leave the room, fearful of a worse prison ahead. You didn’t have much choice in the matter; resistance was a ridiculous idea given your injuries. 

As it was, you were still too hazy with shock and pain to even think of doing anything other than what you were told. You only hoped that you would have a moment to lay down again. Standing up was torture, even just breathing, and those fleeting moments of sleep were your only relief.

The halls stretched on and on. The twists and turns seemed counterintuitive as he led you along and when you didn’t walk fast enough, he grabbed your arm and dragged you along. You limped and tripped several times but he hardly noticed as he kept his eyes forward.

He brought you out into the sombre grey evening and the gulp of cold air was like a slap in the face. You didn’t know how long it was since you last felt the outside, but it made you tear up. The subtle chill tickled your nose and sent a shiver up your neck. It didn’t feel real, not after the stifling stillness of that white room.

He ushered you over to the boxy black vehicle and opened the backdoor. He nudged you and pointed inside. You looked at him and then around at the barren dirt. You braced the side of the doorframe and grunted as you tried to climb up into the backseat. You gasped and dropped back onto the ground and touched your ribs.

He sniffed and you flinched as his hand came up under your ass and he pushed you up and into the car. You groaned and landed heavily across the seat and kept yourself from sliding onto the floor. You turned back just as he slammed the door.

You coughed and reclined against the seat. You watched him climb in the front, a clear barrier between the front and back of the vehicle. The engine turned and hummed as he played with the controls. A screen above the dash lit up and showed coordinates on a map as several switches lit up below.

The jeep began to move as he steered mechanically away from the building. You peeked back at the grey brick and stretched your legs out as you leaned on the door. You rocked with the motion of the wheels but each jolt made you whimper. You closed your eyes and quelled the panic bubbling in your stomach.

You knew it couldn’t be good. None of it was. Waking up in that closet, being locked up in that white room, and now, your unknown destination hardly meant a mysterious fate. The Captain’s leer returned to you and his ominous words. The way he ordered the masked man around like a dog worried you more.

When you next opened your eyes, just about to doze off, you heard a subtle buzz through the barrier. Next to the screen, a phone was propped up and the timer counted up the minutes in the call. You couldn’t read what you assumed was Russian Cyrillic and you couldn’t quite hear the words coming from the speaker.

You sighed and it caused a stab in your ribs. You closed your eyes again and opted to try to cling onto your fatigue. It wouldn’t matter if you could hear the conversation, likely one-sided as it was, or if you could figure out where that little blinking tag on the map was. None of it made a difference. You could be certain you would not escape those men.

★

Mountains rose with sun through the slits of your eyelids. You batted away the sleepiness and shifted as you looked around at the rocky landscape, the road ahead steep and winding as the tires gripped the dirt. The angle of your ascent made your stomach flip and you leaned into the corner more heavily.

When the terrain plateaued, the mist thick around you, you dared to move and craned to peer around at the obscured lands below. The man drove on along the trail, just wide enough for the wide military vehicle and steered into the open mouth of a cave hidden between tall rocks jutting out from the mountain face.

The darkness consumed all but the glowing screen and symbols in the front of the vehicle and when the tires crunched to a halt, you sat up cautiously. The lights all went out and the front door opened and closed. The door behind you swung open and the rigid metal grip pulled you out. 

Your feet hit the ground harshly and you stumbled against the man’s unwavering posture. The door shut and he sidled you ahead of him between the metal and stone. You couldn’t see in the suffocating blackness of the cave but he walked on without hesitation. His hold on your arm was the only guide you had.

He stopped as the air grew sharp and startlingly cold. Your teeth chattered and you heard the shift of rock against rock. A glowing blue oval appeared, as if floating, and he covered it with his thumb. A low rumble came from deep in the mountain and suddenly the slate before you shifted and a wall of light shone over you.

He shoved you through the door and followed, the metal door sliding closed as the rock wall on the other side clattered back into place. You looked up and down the hallway. The walls were constructed of metal sheets and the atmosphere was just as sterile as that before. Each door was thick and firmly shut, a keypad set into the wall by every frame.

The metal finger pointed you ahead of the masked man and you staggered down the long hall. He led you from behind, a right turn and then to the end. The only open door led to a peculiarly cozy room. The walls were made of rippled wood and lent the air of a cabin as the fireplace burned with artificial flames. There was a long sofa and two plaid armchairs, and the place was decorated like a real home.

Your eyes were drawn to the walnut bar in the corner where the lone figure stood. The Captain no longer sported his helmet or combat suit but wore a pale blue cable knit sweater. He smirked at you as he swirled the dark liquor in a round-bellied bottle and sniffed the neck.

“About time,” he said to the man behind you.

The masked man poked you and grabbed your elbow. He brought you to the bar and pulled a stool close to you. You couldn’t climb up on your own and so he lifted you and plunked you down. He perched on another as the Captain ordered him to.

“You look confused,” the Captain said coolly, “why wouldn’t you be? I can only assume the breadth of explanation offered by my companion.” He winked at the other man who only glared back above his black mask, “he doesn’t say much but you can call him Bucky, he might answer to it.”

He took a slender shot glass and filled it with the nearly black liquid. He turned it slowly and tilted his head as he eyed it. He put the bottle down and leaned an arm on the bar as he watched you.

“Soldat, maybe,” he offered, “he’s a good soldier. And you already know who I am, but sir will suffice.”

You frowned and glanced between him and the other man; Bucky, soldat, whatever he was. Steve chuckled and lifted the shot. He held it up until you looked at it and just as quickly, knocked it back and hissed as he slammed the glass back down.

“You see, me and him, we have different variants of the serum. Similar enough, one of the things we have in common being our tolerance for alcohol. But this…” he flicked the top of the bottle, “a couple shots and the edge starts to blur. If someone like you were to take just a sip, well, you’d be on your ass.”

You shook your head, not quite catching his point. He inhaled and poured another shot. He put it in front of the soldat.

“Loosen up, will ya?” he chided.

The dark-haired man squinted and stared at the glass. He reached up with one hand and took off the mask. He revealed a square jaw and chiseled cheekbones. He drained the shot in a single robotic motion but when he brought the glass back down, it shattered against the bar.

“He has issues with… restraint,” Steve said, “to him, a knock in the head is like a peck on the lips. He doesn’t feel it. If he can’t feel, how can he know what others can?”

“I don’t…” you sniffed.

“He could’ve killed you. He almost did by the looks of it, but he didn’t,” he continued, “there are flickers in him… little things left behind from who he once was, but I don’t think it was mercy.”

You chewed your lip and stayed silent. You took a breath and once more wracked your tender ribs. You folded your arms around you and grimaced.

“Yeah, hurts, doesn’t it?” he taunted, “unfortunately for us, you’ll need lots of rest if you don’t wanna puncture a lung.”

“What do you… mean?” you regretted asking the moment the question was out. It was a dumb question.

He raised his brows and the scar across his eye paled. He rubbed his forehead and chuckled. His blue eyes wandered for just a moment to the plain gray cotton along your shoulders and he shrugged.

“Look, you don’t wanna do this now,” he said, “so I suggest…” he reached under the bar and revealed a bottle of wine then a stemmed glass, “you get comfortable,” he turned and searched the slim drawer at the top, “and try not to think too much.”

He put an orange bottle of pills down beside the glass and filled the crystal. He pushed the wine towards you and uncapped the bottle. He placed two tablets beside the base and popped the lid back on. 

“It will help with the pain,” he assured you, “and it will make it easier to get settled in.”

“I… I don’t what these are,” you scoffed as you pointed at the pills.

“I wouldn’t poison you. I could end it a lot quicker than that,” he tisked, “so, accept my generosity or I’ll shove it down your throat.”

You blanched and stared at him. The other man, Bucky, stood and stopped you from reaching for the wine. Steve looked at him in amusement and watched him jab a finger towards his chest.

“I’m helping her,” Steve said flatly, “but if you have an easier way, by all means.”

Bucky lowered his chin and closed his eyes. He sat and turned to you. He took the pills and held them out to you. You scooped them up shakily and he swiped up the wine, hovering it just before you. You shoved the pills in your mouth and accepted the wine.

His eyes focused on your lips as you sipped and he glanced back at Steve. He put his hand flat in the air, a blunt gesture. The blond laughed and raised his palms defensively.

“He wants me to leave you alone now,” he snickered, “go on then, Buck, find her a bed.”

The soldier stood and waited for you to do the same. You left the wine half-finished and he ushered you back to the door. As he reached it, Steve’s voice rose again.

“Shouldn’t worry so much about me hurting her, soldat,” he called mockingly, “you do that well enough.”

He prodded you through the door and growled under his breath. He directed you down to the corner and pressed his thumb to the keypad. The door slid up suddenly and you flinched. He blocked the doorway behind you as you entered and looked around at the bedroom. Everything you needed awaited you within those walls and if you weren’t in the middle of a mountain, it would seem an entirely ordinary place.

You turned back but all you saw was the metal descend and close you in. You stared at it for a moment then went to the bed. You sat and rubbed your temples. You could feel the pills dredging up your mind and the wine curdling in your stomach. Sleep was tempting as it was your only choice.

★

When you woke next, you felt an odd presence. The room was dark but it was that feeling you got as a child when you left the closet door open and conjured monstrous creatures watching from within. 

You groaned as you propped yourself up on one elbow and reached to the switch above the headboard that turned on the lamps on the side table. The room lit up and you crooked as you found a visitor in your corner. 

It was the soldat, his mask back in place as he stood and watched you. You blinked and looked at the door. It was firmly shut. You kept the blanket over you like a shield as you sat up and tried not to show your fear.

“Hi,” you said softly, “are you… okay?”

His blue eyes searched you but gave nothing away. The mask and the curtain of his hair shrouded his emotion. You just stared back in silence as his lashes flicked subtly, his irises moving up and down the bed. He took a step closer and you winced, squeezing the edge of the blankets.

He neared and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. He grabbed the top of the blanket and tugged until you let them go. You quivered as he pushed your shoulders down and you were forced flat with your head on the pillows. You gulped and the movement of your throat caught his gaze.

His metal fingers tickled along your neck and sent a chill down your spine. His hand continued down the front of your shirt and he pushed the hem up as the blanket bunched beneath your stomach. You latched onto it in a panic and he tore your hands away. He pressed them to the bed beside you until you went limp.

He raised your shirt higher and framed your ribs with his hands, feeling carefully along your bruised torso. When you exclaimed he retracted his hands and pulled your shirt back down roughly. He shook his head and his brows slanted.

His metal fingertips tapped on his thigh as he thought. You laid frozen on the mattress as his forehead wrinkled and he angled his head as if arguing with himself. His hand shifted suddenly and closed around yours. You let him lift it, terrified to anger him.

He reached to unhook his mask and set it in his lap. He brought your hand to his cheek and leaned his face into your palm as he bent over you. You felt the short stubble stabbing your palm. He took your hand away and swung it back towards him sharply so that you smacked him stiffly. 

You stared at him in confusion and he did it again. Then he let your hand go and pointed at his cheek and nodded. You dropped your hand and did nothing. His blue eyes turned to daggers and his jaw squared. He balled his hand and punched his leg in frustration.

He huffed and picked up his mask. He stood and put it back on. He waved his fingers at you dismissively and stomped to the door. He pressed his thumb to the small indent and it slid open before him. When the door shut, you left the lights on. 

Even with the drugs still coursing through you, sleep didn’t seem likely.

[muffindaddystyles]

Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

..

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

.

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

TW- depression, disassociation

Cassandra watches the snow fall over Whitestone with a solum expression. Her hands are folded neatly in front of her and she doesn't move, doesn't even twitch. She lets the snow fall on her shoulders and hair, not feeling a thing.

She used to spend hours like this, just on the edge of the balcony, looking down at the city below. She wouldn't move until someone made her. Now she has freedom and still she chooses this, to let her mind drift away from her body.

It's pathetic, she thinks. Her brother went through far worse than she did and she doesn't see him hurting as much as she is.

"Sister?" Cassandra doesn't move at the sound of her brothers voice in her bedroom. She doesn't move when he touches her shoulder. He steps in front of her and looks down at her with concern. "Cass?"

His voice sounds distant. Even though she can see him in front of her. It should scare her. But it doesn't. She's safe when her mind is far away, that's what the Briarwoods taught her.

Percy tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, "Let's get you inside, get you warm."

She doesn't respond, but she lets him steer her back inside and sit her down on the edge of her bed. It's strange, what he said, she doesn't feel cold. Why would she need to warm up?

Percy rummages through her closet, pulling out a thick purple sweater Keyleth knit for her a while back. It's soft and thick. He lifts her arms and tugs the sweater down over her dress.

"Come on, dear," he says gently. "It's nice and warm in my room, I'm sure Vex has a cup of tea and some warm food by now."

Perch helps her stand and then wraps an arm around her as he takes her out of her bedroom and down the hall to the room he shares with Vex.

Inside, Vex is curled up in front of the fire. Baby Vesper is tucked in Vex's arms as her mother makes silly faces down at her. She looks up as the door opens. "Hello, darlings," Vex greets with a smile. "Everything alright?" She asks Percy.

"Cass just needs to warm up a bit, will you spare a bit of your tea for her?" Percy asks as he sits Cassandra down between him and Vex.

"Of course," Vex adjusts to hold Vesper with one arm as she reaches forward and pours a small cup of tea. Cassandra watches herself take it and bring it to her lips. She takes a sip and winces from how hot it is.

With a squeeze of her eyes, Cassandra takes a deep breath, the first one she's taken in a long while. "Percy?" She asks, her voice shaky. "Percy..."

"It's alright," he says, hand on her shoulder. "You're okay. You just went away for a little bit, happens to us all. Though all of us don't get hypothermia from it."

Vex swats Percy's arm, "She doesn't have hypothermia, at least not yet. But he's right, dear, nothing to be ashamed about." Cassandra looks down at her hands, feeling the grooves of her nail. "Does that happen a lot, darling?"

"Not so much anymore," Cassandra admits quietly. "The first few months after we're the worst." She avoids their eyes, not wanting to see the guilty look she knows is in their eyes.

An arm wraps around her shoulder and Percy tugs her into his side. Cassandra goes easily, resting her head on his shoulder. "What do you do when it happens?" Percy asks her quietly.

Cassandra shrugs. "Just wait for it to go away. I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Alright, darling. Would you like to hold your niece? I find that she does wonders for stress relief."

"When she's not crying at least," Percy mutters, making Cassandra laugh a little bit as she nods.

Vex easily transfers Vesper into Cassandra's arms. The baby blinks up at Cassandra before smiling and wrapping her fingers into Cassandra's hair, pulling on it.

Cassandra doesn't mind, she lets the baby do what she will, only stopping her when Vesper tries to eat her hair.

Here, with her brother and sister and niece, things don't seem quite so terrible. She's warm, inside and out.

[forever-rogue]

Afterglow - Part 12

A/N: Hello! Are you all ready for some of the softest Frankie and Bee? Because yeah...it got soft! As always, feedback and comments are welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged, let me know. xx 💕

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: language, references to sex, one punch

AFTERGLOW MASTERLIST

FRANKIE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

1 Year Later

“Hi Honey!” an exhausted sigh escaped your lips as you dropped your book bag by the door and kicked off your shoes. The smell of something delicious cooking immediately reached your nose as you the sound of two feet and four paws met your ears. A grin spread across your face as you spied Daisy and Frankie rushing towards you. 

“Hi Bee,” he beamed as he wrapped you up in his arms and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head, “you’re just in time - I just finished dinner. How was school?”

“Good,” you pressed a kiss to his lips before reaching down and giving Daisy a handful of pets, “long though. I’m exhausted! Oh, but we learned about lemurs and their evolutionary history and it was just so...interesting. They’re so cute and there’s so many species. For one of our assignments we need to go and observe primates at the zoo and I thought I could watch the lemurs! But - oops, I don’t want to bore you. How was your day, Frankie?”

“You will never bore me,” he quickly cut off any negative thoughts or ideas you had. You couldn’t help but grin at him, as he reached up and gently cradled your face in his hands, “whatever you want to tell me, you know you can. I want to hear about it all. Yes?”

“Yes,” you agreed, knowing that if this was anyone but Frankie, the outcome would have been a very different result. Especially if you’d gotten...no. You weren’t even going to let your mind go to that place. Not when your whole world was in front of you, “I love you, Frankie.”

“I love you too,” a gentle brush of noses as the two of you grinned at each other. You opened your mouth to say something but were quickly cut off by the loud rumbling of your stomach, “dinner time. Come on, let’s eat and you can tell me all about your lemurs.”

“Only if you tell me all about your day,” you took his outstretched hand and let him lead you to the kitchen. To your delighted surprise, you found a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies on the counter, “those are beautiful!”

“They’re for you,” he said simply as he pulled two plates from the cabinet. Your brows knitted together in surprise as you quickly wracked your brain as you tried to figure out if you’d missed some sort of holiday or anniversary, “they’re a just because I felt like it surprise. I saw them when I took Daisy for a walk after work. I thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you touched some of the soft petals, “and you - very, very much.”

“I know,” he winked as he plated up some of the pasta and sauce and you took a seat at the counter. You liked this - this simple, wonderful domesticity of getting to come home with and live with your lover. Not just your lover - but your love. The man that had had your heart forever it had seemed. You couldn’t help but spot the pictures of the two of you on the fridge, beaming and grinning from ear to ear. They’d been taken on a camping trip the two of you’d gone on earlier in the year. Frankie caught your far off look and chuckled softly, “what’s wrong, sweet Bee?”

“Nothing,” you reassured him, “I just...I like this a whole lot. Us, being together, everything. It feels so...right, natural.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he promised as he set a plate in front of you, “you were always the one, Bee.”

“Just like you, Francisco,” you leaned into his side as he brought his plate next to you. Just before sitting down, he reached into the giant glass canister that was filled with treats for Daisy. She looked at him with wide, shining eyes as he gently handed her a few treats; you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, “I imagine she’s had dinner and cannot be starving.”

“That may be, but we’re eating now and I don’t want her to feel left out,” he insisted as you broke into a fit of giggles at his silly insistence. He scoffed playfully before taking his spot next to you, “you laugh, but you know she’s very perceptive.”

“I do know,” you agreed as you nudged his side, “what a caring, considerate boyfriend I have indeed.”

You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek as you looked at him fondly. There was so much light and life behind his eyes now, so much happiness. They crinkled into the corners whenever he smiled and his one dimple made a spectacular appearance. His hair had grown out more, chocolate tinged with caramel and curling deliciously at the ends. He looked so happy and healthy, so much better than he had when you’d first reunited. It hadn’t always been easy for him, and some days were harder, but he’d never had a set back once, despite the darkest days. In the end, it had been you. You’d been the shining beacon, the light of his life, and had gotten him to have the courage and strength to get through it all. Just like on your bad days, he was there for you. 

“It’s been a year, you know,” he whispered after you’d eaten in silence, using a piece of bread to scoop up that last bit of sauce. You looked at him in confusion for a moment before you realized what he was speaking about, “since we’ve been together...again.”

“It feels like it’s been no time at all,” you said softly, “and yet it feels like its always been like this.”

“I agree,” he grinned as he swallowed his last bite, causing you to giggle as some sauce clung to the corner of his mouth. His brows knitted in confusion as you leaned over and swiped your thumb over the sauce and wiped it away. Frankie grabbed your hand and licked your thumb clean before holding it against his scruffy cheek. You felt flushed at the gesture, both intimate and sweet in its own way, “I love you, Bee.”

“I love you too, you silly man,” you sighed in content.

“Now - tell me all about your day,” he insisted as he walked to the fridge to get a couple of beers, “no details spared. Hit me with them!”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“This is beautiful,” you made quick work of unzipping your light sweater and tossing it onto the large, plush blanket Frankie had laid out for your little picnic. Despite having seen you in countless variations of clothing, Frankie still managed to be astounded by your beauty; he felt his heart thump wildly as he looked at you in only your sports bra and leggings. You turned and gave him a curious smile, “what? Do I have something on my face?”

"No, it's nothing," he promised with a shy smile as you walked over to him and played a lock of his hair, "you're beautiful."

"Oh my gosh," you snorted with laughter as you gently pushed his chest, "such a fool, Francisco! You've known me for how long? You can't possibly still feel that way."

"I'll always feel that way about you," he insisted with a cheeky grin, "especially when you look like that. Nice ass."

"Haha," you flipped him the bird before strolling over to the water. Stopping at the edge, you made a quick show of pulling off your leggings and bra. Luckily, you were in a very secluded area and no one was likely to stumble upon you, "have you seen yours? Nice ass! Now come on and get in the water!"

"Why?" he groaned lightly at the enticing sight as he pulled off his shirt and shorts, and came over to you. You both knew he would give in to you. He would be a fool to turn you done.

"Its a perfect day for a swim," you insisted before diving into the cool, gentle water, "come on in, Frankie! The water is wonderful!"

“It’s cold,” he huffed lightly, watching as you swam back up and broke through the surface, grinning at him. He reminded you so much of the boy you had convinced to swim with you when you were just kids. You splashed some water at him, causing him to give a jokingly stern look before he swam over to you, “I’m going to get you!”

“No!” you grinned like mad before trying to swim away, but he was quick to catch up and wrap his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, “you’re a cheater!”

“How am I a cheater?” he laughed as he rested his chin on your shoulder, “all I did was swim!”

“I don’t know,” you insisted, but I know you did. He laughed as you quit struggling against him and let him hold you. As his grip loosened, you turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck before pressing a kiss to his plush lips, “hi.”

“Hi,” naturally Frankie took every opportunity to steal a kiss from you. You studied his face, bringing a hand to his cheek as you used a few fingers to trace over his features and breathe in him. How he was still the same boy underneath the years that had aged him to the man you now loved, “what?”

“Nothing,” you repeated his words from earlier, “I just love you a lot. Like a lot, a lot.”

“Well that’s good,” his grin stretched from ear to ear, “or else this would have been really awkward, because I happen to love you a lot, a lot too.”

You only made a small sound in your throat before you grabbed his face and pulled him towards you and crashed your lips again his, “fuck - I love you so much.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"This was a good idea," you popped a few berries into your mouth before turning your head back to soak up some soon, "what caused this spur of the moment decision?"

Except it wasn’t spur of the moment at all. But you didn't know that yet.

“Nothing really,” he insisted with a small grin, “just wanted to spend the afternoon with my favorite girl.”

“Favorite, huh? What about Daisy? I see those eyes you two pull at each other,” you grabbed the glass champagne and downed it all in one, hiccuping at the bubbly taste. He wasted no time in refilling your glass and his, trying to summon up the courage for what he really wanted to say.

“Okay, you got me - one of my favorite girls,” he laughed before clinking his glass against yours. You let out a small sigh before lying on your back and resting your head on Frankie’s thigh, “tired?”

“A little,” your yawn gave you away, “it was a long night and someone insisted I get up early and go hiking and everything. Plus the warm sun and food isn’t helping. I promise I won’t fall asleep...for long.”

“Mhmm,” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

It was silent for some time, only the gentle ebb of the lake and the sounds of birds in the trees and creatures on the ground meeting your ears. You could have dozed off, but didn’t quite yet...instead you soaked up Frankie’s warmth and played with his hand in yours.

“Frankie…?” you asked softly after a while. He was leaning up against a large tree, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was asleep. Frankie made a small sound, encouraging you to go on, “have you ever...you know what? Never mind, it’s silly.”

“You know you can ask me anything, Bee. If it matters to you, it’s not silly.”

“Have you ever thought about having kids?” you swallowed the lump in your throat and you were suddenly glad your eyes were closed against the sun and he had his sunglasses on, “I-I mean specifically us having kids. I know we joked about it as kids but...what about now?”

Frankie’s breath hitched in his throat and he almost dropped your hand in surprise. He was so choked up, he almost couldn’t get the words out, “I-I...ummm…”

“It’s weird, huh?” you hoped this wasn’t him easily rejecting you, “right before I was going to marry Chad, he thought I was pregnant for a moment and he just seemed so….I dunno. He told me I shouldn’t be pregnant before we get married and then we should have a kid and get it over with. Can you believe it - just get it over? I never...I would never want to have a child with someone that was only having one to be able to say they have one. It’s horrid.”

“He really was the worst.”

“In every way,” you agreed with a tense laugh, “I’m sorry for just springing this on you...it’s just been on my mind, I guess.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he insisted as he shifted you, so you were perched in his lap and facing him. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and studied you intently, “yes, I have thought about it. Many times...there’s no one else I’d want children with besides you, Bee. I-I...I would be lucky to have you as the mother of my child...or children. I’ve often thought about a little baby bee running around.”

“Baby bee,” your eyes stung lightly with tears as you repeated the words back to him; your throat constricted with emotion at the mere thought, “I love that...what about a baby fish? I like the sound of that too. What a lucky child they would be to call you their father.”

“I would never want to have a child just because that’s what society wants,” he swiped his thumb over your cheek to brush away the single tear, “I want a child because we’re in love and that’s what we decide to do. If and when you’re ready, I-I’ll be ready too.”

“Yeah?” you asked softly as his large hand rested on your neck, and he nodded, “because I’d very much like if you knocked me up, Francisco Morales.”

You raised an eyebrow at him before the two of you broke into fits of laughter. That was one of the many beautiful things about your relationship; no matter how serious and important it was, you both were able to find a laugh and look on the bright side. 

“I wouldn’t mind knocking you up,” he mused playfully, “we might have to try a lot though...I don’t know if you can handle it.”

“Oh, I think I can handle it,” you insisted, “can you?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” he grinned as you laid against his chest and let him wrap his arms around you, “there’s one more thing I want to do first…well not necessarily first, but I-I want to ask.”

“What is it?” you asked as you placed gentle kisses to the bare skin of his shoulder. He shifted lightly and swallowed the lump in his throat, “Francisco?”

“I…" without saying a word, he reached into his pocket and fumbled around for a moment as you watched him with a mixture of amusement and confusion. When he appeared to be satisfied, he paused for a moment before inhaling and deeply, "there's something important I want to ask - that I've been meaning to ask you for so long now. I think now is the perfect time."

"Francisco," your hand was on his chest as he held his hand up and displayed a small, velvet pouch. You raised an eyebrow in question, instinctively reaching for it but stopping yourself at the last moment, "baby-"

"Take it," he whispered softly as you obliged him and delicately procured the black pouch from him. Curiously opening it up, your heart almost stood still as you pulled out the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. Your mouth dropped open as you looked between him and the ring a couple of times, "do you like it, Honey Bee? I-I helped design it and I hope you like it...but if you don't-"

You quickly cut him off with a kiss, pulling him as tightly against your body as you could, only pulling back when you were left breathless, "I love it - it's beautiful. I love you, so much Francisco. Are you...asking me-"

"Will you marry me, Bee?" he gently took the ring from your shaking hands as you offered him your left hand.

"Yes," you whispered as he slipped the ring onto your finger. You took his hand in yours and gave it a tight squeeze, "yes, a million times yes. Of course I'll marry you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Me too," he grinned as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He knew, deep down, that the chances that you'd say were slim, but still, there was always that little bit of doubt, "you were always the one. Always."

"Yeah," you agreed with a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, "you're the one, my love. It was always you."

»»————-　♡　————-««

"You didn't have to do all of this," Frankie's eyes were with wonder and excitement as he looked around the exquisite restaurant. It was fancy, definitely more so than anything you'd normally consider, but you'd wanted to do this for Frankie. The man had been complaining about wanting a good steak for so long, you'd taken it upon yourself to find the best steak restaurant in town.

"I know," you promised him as you pulled out his chair for him and motioned for him to sit down, "but I wanted to, my love. You always take such good care of me, I figured we - you - deserve it. Plus, think of it as a way of celebrating our engagement!"

"I can't argue with that," he smiled lightly as he reached across the table and put his hand over yours. He knew that while excited about your engagement and wanting to tell the world, part of it had been hard on you. Your family still wasn't on speaking terms with you, by their choice and despite efforts from both of you. It wasn't something that plagued you constantly, but times like this made you wish things were different. 

The silver lining in all of this was that through your reunion with Frankie, you'd gained his friends as yours as well - the infamous bee they always called you. You still had Allie and Anna, who were absolutely more than thrilled to know Frankie was your person. Plus with starting school again, you'd made friends with several people that you enjoyed spending time in and out of class with. At the end of the day, however, there was nothing better than getting to come to Frankie. He was your everything, as you were his.

"What are you thinking?" he asked as you took a sip of wine as the two of you waited for your meals, “you have your thinking face on.”

“You always knew me too well,” you teased lightly, “I was thinking about how much I love you. How lucky I am to be with you, and get to call you mine. That no matter how much we’ve been through, we get to be together in the end. That no matter what happens with my family or whatever, that I’ll have you, and so many others. That you are my family.” 

“Always,” he promised with a small smile, “I’ll always be here for you. I’m not going anywhere, you know that. You are my family, my home, and my heart, Bee. You always have been.”

“I know that,” you beamed, lighting up his whole world, “I always have too...I love you.”

“I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I think I’ve got room for dessert, don’t you?” you teased as you stood up and reached for his hand. Frankie’s eyes grew wide as he realized exactly what you meant, “the pie we baked yesterday, and I think there’s ice cream in the freezer.” 

“Baby-” he was somewhere between a laugh and a groan as trailed at your side, “you’re killing me.”

“Oops,” you teased, completely amused by his reaction. 

"Well, well, well," your blood ran cold at the sound of the eerily familiar voice. Frankie kept walking, unaware that anything was wrong until he noticed you weren't following him. Turning on your hell, you slowly came face to face with Chad, "look what the cat dragged in. Didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"And that still would have been too soon," you lightly rolled your eyes, "and while I feel like I'd love to stay and argue and rehash everything, I'm going to be the better person here and just walk away."

"Because you have nothing to say," he chided as you tried to blow him off. But then you saw who he was with, "pity."

"Yes," you sighed, "what a pity indeed. Clarissa! I didn't think I'd see you again either. Are you together? I didn't think you liked Chad- all the time you spent talking shit about him, must not have been real, huh?"

Your friend, former friend anyway, looked at you with a scowl as pursed her lips but remained silent. It might have been pathetic and petty, but in the moment you couldn't help it.

"And just who are you here with? That pathetic looking man over there? The one that's watching you with concern...ahh, yes, an engagement ring," his eyes flicked to your left hand as you felt your blood boil. He could taunt and make fun of you all he wanted, but he would never say a word about Frankie, "its...precious. He must have spent his whole life savings on that. I don't get it...you had everything - I gave you everything - wealth, status, luxury and you left all of that...and for what?"

"Don't you dare," you held up your finger and jammed in front of his face, "don't you dare talk about him. He is a far better person than you will ever be. He is everything to me. I left you because I couldn't commit to a loveless marriage and society and people I don't care about. You never loved me, let's be honest. You loved my name, my family's wealth, their status. That's all that ever mattered to you. And yet I am the one who sounds pathetic?"

"What can he offer you?" Chad smirked as he leaned back in his chair.

"Bee-" Frankie could easily sense the tension flowing between the two of you and had come over and reached for your hand, "come on, let's go home."

"Bee," Chad almost howled with laughter as you glared at him, "how perfectly adorable. What a cute couple - the failed socialite and the...what? Some sort of kitchen boy?"

"That is enough," you almost shouted at him as seemingly half the restaurant turned to look at you, "stop this. What is the point?"

"Does there have to be a point?" there was nothing but a smug grin on his face, "you could have had it all and now you've got...him. You could have so many other choices and now what? You're going to be-"

But before he could say anything else, you swung your arm back and landed a punch, right in the middle of face. The action shocked you so much, and Frankie and Clarissa - and the rest of the establishment that you were all awestruck for a moment. The crack of his nose had surprised you most and you’d immediately recoiled and clutched your aching hand. Frankie’s hand found your shoulders as he pulled you against his chest.

"Stupid bitch!" Chad jumped to his feet and clutched his bleeding nose, “who do you think you are?”

“Come on,” Frankie’s voice was low and gentle in your ear as he pulled you back from the scene, “we have to go.”

Nodding lightly, you let him usher you away, but not before you turned around to speak your last bit of peace, “I hope I never see you again. But I do hope you find someone you love, truly love, and someone that loves you. Because there is nothing better, and even though you are horrid, you deserve it too. There is one thing I learned from you - how to be truly loved by someone and let them love you back, and for that I thank you.”

You turned around before he, or anyone else, could say anything, grabbing Frankie’s hand with your own and pulling him out of the restaurant amid quiet murmurs. 

Only stopping once you were outside, you let go of his hand and sighed heavily. Frankie looked at you with something akin to a mix of awe and love as he took your injured hand and studied it. You winced slightly as pain had already settled in the joints, “that was...impressive. Where did you learn to throw a punch like that, Bee?”

“You,” you admitted with a laugh, “back when we were kids! You said it was important to always know how to throw a good punch and you taught me. I guess I must have remembered it after all these years.”

“I guess I taught you well,” he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle to the already prominent bruising, “so that was him, huh?”

“Unfortunately,” you agreed with a bitter huff, “could you have imagined if I’d married him? How absolutely terrible that would have been. I made the right choice, I know, and I’ve known that for a long time now. It was always you.”

He leaned over and kissed you softly, tasting faintly of the sweet wine you’d had with dinner, “let’s go home, sweet Bee. We have to tend to your hand and not let it get worse.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

“Frankie?” you were laid on top of him on the small bed in your dorm, fighting off sleep as he continued to read. You’d insisted on stopping for a nap, and he’d insisted he needed to finish his book that day - he was deeply invested. He made a small sound, urging you to continue you on as he played with a lock of your hair, “I have a request - it’s silly…”

“Tell me,” he insisted softly as he set his book down, “come on, Bee, tell me.”

“When we’re old and married,” you wrapped your arms around his middle as you rested your head on his chest, “I want a dog, and a house with a big yard where we can grow lots of flowers. And two kids - at least. I-I know it’s silly, to think about the future so far ahead, but I like to dream.”

“I don’t think that’s silly at all,” he promised softly, a flush of warmth rising in his chest and face, “I-I like the sound of that, Bee. Does that include a white picket fence? I was thinking more about like..shrubs...or lots of flowers, like an open concept.”

“It includes whatever you want,” you turned and grinned at him, pressing a kiss to his lips, “as long as you’re there, it doesn’t matter. None of it does, as long as you’re there. I love you so much, Francisco.”

“Of course I will be,” he promised softly, “I’m not going anywhere. I love you too, Bee.”

“Read to me?” you asked as you handed his book back to him, “I can’t think of a better thing than falling asleep to the sound of your voice.”

“Anything for you, Bee…my Bee.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[alpacaparkaseok]

The Pact - Date #3

Pairing/Genre: OT7 BTS x reader (not poly), idol!BTS, best friend BTS

Word Count: 7.7k

Premise: The truth about the pact the boys have about you has been revealed. What happens when you agree to go on a single date with each of them?

Warnings: none, BUT THE FLUFF IS COMING DOWN FULL FORCE YA’LL

a/n: don’t forget, I taking your guys’ comments/reactions into account for this series, so please let me know what your thoughts are! of course, at the end we’ll really take a deeper look at all of the dates and what stood out the most, but I would love to hear from you about this one!! love you all, enjoy!

Date #3

series masterlist ∆∆∆ join the taglist

The more time has passed, the more you fully come to realize that if you have been that affected by two dates, you are in no way prepared for the five that remain.

Nope. Not one bit.

It was Thursday when Jungkook finally texted to check that you were free around eleven. Your heart leapt, finally. A date that you wouldn’t have to spend all day moping around waiting for.

So obviously, you were ready by 9. You know, just in case.

You’d been instructed to wear casual clothes, something that you rejoiced in. Donning your sweater with the word Harvard in thick blue letters spanning the front and a pair of skinny jeans, you felt right at home.

The boys never missed a chance to tease you about your Harvard sweatshirt, and for some reason they never believed your lie that you actually went there. Of course, that might be due to the fact that they were very much aware of your current schooling situation and it was most definitely not Harvard.

But hey...attending one of the top universities in South Korea wasn’t bad, either.

Currently you were perched on the end of your bed, partly due to the fact that if you went anywhere else you would most certainly just end up staring out the window at every car that passed by. Not wanting to look like a nosy neighbor, you’d confined yourself to your room to wait out the morning.

In the hours that pass, your thoughts are completely occupied by the two boys you shared the last couple of Saturdays with.

It would be a lie to say that you don’t replay the image of Taehyung standing in your doorway every night as you tried to sleep, his hair a fluffy mess and that cable knit sweater proving to be your doom.

Your thoughts were usually interrupted as you took your bracelet off and stared at it, imagining Hobi delicately placing each individual bead it it’s place. It’s when your hand burns with the memory of his gentle kiss on your palm that you finally set the bracelet down and let out a frustrated sigh.

Yeah...Jimin was wrong when he invited you to just think of these as nice, friendly dates.

He probably knew it, too.

“Ok,” you breathe out, closing your eyes and focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. “Just...enjoy it.”

Enjoy it you shall.

That’s the thing that carries you through the waiting, still just breathing in and out and mentally preparing yourself for all that awaits you today.

You get so carried away in your attempts to calm down that the knock on your front door comes before you realize how much time has passed. Taking one more steadying breath, you get up from your bed and amble down the hallway to the door.

Pausing for a moment, you realize that you truly have no idea who might be on the other side of that door. The thought makes you smile. You’ve always loved a good mystery.

Cracking open the door, you can’t help but smile as the figure before you has their back turned to you. At the sound of your quiet giggle, they turn around, eyes a little wide.

A nervous smile in place, Namjoon leans forward ever so slightly. Almost as though he’s being pulled in by your personal gravity. “Morning,” he says almost as an afterthought, his voice low.

“Good morning,” you respond, throwing the door open the rest of the way. “So you’re lucky number three?”

“Well, you know what they say.”

You busy yourself with grabbing your bag and double checking that you have everything. “What do they say?”

Namjoon shrugs, his nervous smile growing until it’s bordering on giddiness. “Third time’s a charm.”

Indeed.

Once you’ve ascertained that you have everything you’ll need (you made sure to replenish your mint stash earlier this week), you’re stepping out into the slightly brisk air and locking the door behind you.

The sound of keys jingling near your ear has you turning to face Namjoon, who wears an oversized, dark plaid shirt that’s open to reveal his black t-shirt beneath it. The picture of casual coolness, paired with his dark wash jeans and sneakers, the look is complete with the way his dimples poke out as he holds up the keys to your eye level.

“Guess who’s driving?” He teases in a sing-song voice, making you laugh as you swipe the keys from him. As the two of you descend the stairs toward the car, you tilt your head to the side.

“How did you get here?” Then, turning to him with wide eyes, “You didn’t drive yourself, right?”

He’s quick to shake his head, pointing out a car that’s turning around at the end of your street and slowly making its way back toward you two. “The guys dropped me off.”

The thought of Namjoon in a car with some of the boys and the rest trailing after them in a separate vehicle is endearing, while also hilarious. “All of them?”

“Yep,” he confirms. “Every last one of them.”

As the car draws nearer, you see the windows roll down and someone with familiar black, fluffy hair sticks their head out. Like a dog pile, another head hovers beside them.

Taehyung and Jimin.

Oh, and there’s Jungkook somehow managing to wiggle in between them.

“We apologize in advance, jagiya,” Jimin croons loudly with a teasing smirk. “At least try to enjoy yourself.”

You snort, clicking the button to unlock the car and laughing even harder when Hobi jumps at the sound of the horn. He sits in the passenger seat beside Jin, who drives. The two merely wave before mumbling something to each other that makes them laugh.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, frowning as you do a head count and not finding him anywhere. In response, a pale hand coming from what must be the very back row of the car worms its way forward to the open window. You swear you can almost hear his disgruntled greeting, but it’s drowned out as Taehyung excitedly speaks up.

“Good luck trying to beat me, hyung,” he teases, shooting Namjoon a sweet smile that’s at odds with his teasing comment.

Namjoon just shrugs, utterly unphased as he follows you around the car and opens the drivers side with smooth precision. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”

This encourages a round of ooh-ing that only serves to make you laugh even as you tuck away the momentary competitive side of Namjoon. Calm, calculated, and - if you’re reading that steely look in his eyes correctly - utterly in the zone.

Oh, you’re definitely enjoying this way more than you should.

“Drive safe!” The boys shout out amidst jeering comments directed toward Namjoon and his lack of driving abilities. With a final wave, they’re speeding off down the street. Once they’ve disappeared from sight, you notice the way Namjoon’s shoulders relax. He hurries over to the passenger side, hopping in and buckling up before fiddling with his phone.

“So...where to?” You ask, buckled up and ready to go. You tap the steering wheel excitedly, already feeling hyped up from the short interaction with everyone.

You miss seeing them all together. There’s a reason why you’re friends with the entire group.

“I put the address into the car,” Namjoon explains. “It should give you directions as we go.”

Arching a brow at him, you don’t shift into drive just yet. “So I’m driving us there, but I don’t get to know what the end location is?”

Smiling softly, Namjoon nods. “Exactly. You’re so smart, have I ever told you that?”

Scowling, you press the green button that appears on the screen and a warm female voice instructs you to drive to the stop sign and turn left.

You hum, pondering the slightly sarcastic question. “I’m not sure. But that’s definitely a sign that you should tell me more often.”

“I’ll make note of that.”

With a glance at the screen, you see the estimated driving time. “We’re leaving Seoul?”

From your peripheral, you notice Namjoon’s worried expression. “Is that alright? We can find something to do around here, it’s just-”

“No,” you rush to reassure him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.” It won’t be a particularly long drive, just over an hour, but you certainly weren’t expecting that.

Something tells you that there are plenty more surprises waiting for you today.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you slip into an easy conversation, Namjoon relating his latest experiences in his efforts to add something eye-catching to his studio.

“Like what?” You ask. “I love your studio the way it is.”

Namjoon looks over at you, smiling softly. “Really? I don’t know...I just feel like something’s missing.”

“Well, we’ll keep an eye out for something today,” you promise, relaxing now that you’re on the freeway and in the flow of traffic. “Like, do you want something to hang up? Or something to go on your desk?”

He shrugs, taking a moment to roll his window down and close his eyes as it runs through his hair. “I already have a bunch of stuff on the wall, and if I put anything on my desk-”

“Right, you’ll spill on it.”

“Exactly.” You keep your eyes on the road, entirely missing the fond look he gives you.

“So basically, you don’t need anything.”

He huffs a sigh, rolling the window back up and sinking down into the seat. “No, I do, I just don’t know what.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey,” Namjoon cuts, giving you a dramatic glare. “Don’t mock me.”

Feigning innocence, you peek over at him. “I’m not!”

“Yah, just drive.”

“I am!”

Despite the bickering, you can’t fight the smile edging its way onto your features. A glance over at Namjoon shows that he’s having the same issue, his face turned away from you but failing to hide the silly grin he’s attempting to hide as his fingers curl at his lips. It’s a habit he’s had for as long as you’ve known him, one that often makes its way into many photos.

“Prepare to take exit 14,” the voice instructs, and you make your way over to the far lane, eyeing the looming sign that will announce what exit it’s for. Once the sign comes into view, you give Namjoon a puzzled look.

“We’re going to Anyang?”

It’s not that you have anything against the city, it’s just that...well, what is there in Anyang that isn’t in Seoul?

“See? Super intelligent.” It’s the only response you get from Namjoon, but it has you rolling your eyes in an effort to counter the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you.

In a couple of minutes you’re turning onto a relatively quiet street, only a few random people mulling about, enjoying their weekend. Namjoon points out an entrance to a parking lot that you would have completely missed due to its hidden nature. Once you’re parked and dwarfed between the buildings surrounding the little lot, you jump out of the car and make a show of stretching your legs.

Namjoon mimics you, a loud yet satisfying yawn coming from him. “Hey, are you hungry now or are you good to wait a little while?”

You pause, internally wondering. “I think I’m good for a while.”

“Great.” Rubbing his hands together, he comes to stand beside you. “Let’s go, then.”

You fall into step beside him. “Woah, you still haven’t told me where- oh.”

The two of you have rounded a corner and now stand in front of a nondescript building. Its sage green paint is chipping a bit, giving it a rustic feel that is only accentuated by the gold lettering above the door.

Wanderers & Travelers

However, it’s not the homey feel or the tasteful name that has you stopping in your tracks. It’s what you see inside, through the large windows.

Without a single word, you step forward as though in a daze. The little bell above the door chimes as you walk in, announcing your arrival. And, as though the entire thing couldn’t get better, the scent hits you.

The smell of old and new books, some leather bound and some hard backed, dives into your senses and leaves you whirling.

The walls in here are painted some shade of sky blue, complementing the deep wood shelves. It’s quiet in here, the only sound being that of shuffling feet.

If you blink, you’re afraid it might all vanish.

“Oh! You’re here!”

Turning to your left, you see a woman with flecks of white in her hair, smiling warmly at you and Namjoon. If you’re being completely, honest, you’d nearly forgotten that Namjoon was there.

The woman descends the final few steps of the creaky staircase, keeping a friendly distance as she nods at the two of you. “You were right,” she remarks to Namjoon. Then, to you with a teasing smirk, “You look like you’ve never seen a bookstore before.”

You sputter for the right words. “I- yeah, but this-”

“Is no ordinary bookstore,” Namjoon finishes for you, a hand at your elbow. You can’t help but lean into his touch, momentarily forgetting the rows and rows of shelves just a few steps away as Namjoon involuntarily steps a little closer.

“Ah, right. Well, first thing’s first: I’m Choi Min-jee. And this is my bookstore,” she gestures to the endless rows of bookshelves, and you wonder for a moment how all of these can fit in the building. It looks so much smaller from the outside.

Min-jee motions for you to follow her, and she leads the two of you to the nearest bookshelf. “These books range in languages and age, you never know what you might find. This shop has been in my family for five generations now - we’ve collected our fair share of books and other antique items.” With a little wink, she steps back. “Take your time, and let me know if you have any questions. Oh, and the upstairs is open now.”

Namjoon perks up at this, looking over from where he’d pulled a book off the shelf. “Really? We’ll have to look up there!”

“Please do! I’m off to practice piano.” With that, she whisks away, leaving you to your own devices.

You stare after her in awe, mouth slightly ajar. It makes Namjoon chuckle quietly, he must know the feeling.

“I wanna be her when I grow up,” you whisper, earning a louder chuckle from the man.

“Same.” Namjoon heads deeper into the shelves, and you follow after him. He glances back at you over his shoulder. “This is my favorite place.”

“I take it you’re a regular?” You ask, eyes catching on a bright blue book with frayed binding. Pausing, you ease it from its spot. “Hm… ‘The Cottage by the Sea’.” You run my hand over the shiny inlay, a seashell glinting up at you. “Why do I feel like I just entered the world of ‘Little Women’?”

Namjoon snorts, wandering back over to you and gazing down at the book. He grabs the one that occupied the spot next to it on the shelf, the deep red absorbing in all the surrounding light. “You’re definitely Jo.”

“Really?” You ask, gently flipping through the first few pages and trying to find a publish date. “I always thought that I was more of an Amy.”

Namjoon looks appalled, tearing his eyes away from his book. “What? No. In what world are you Amy?”

“Hey! Don’t act like she’s a bad person,” You whine, bringing the book close to your chest. “She was just...trying to survive.”

Huffing loudly and obnoxiously, Namjoon heads over to the other aisle, peeking at you through the gaps in the shelf. “She got everything she ever wanted, without hardly having to ask for it. Are you telling me that you have everything you ever wanted?”

There’s a skylight above you, allowing the lazy afternoon sun to filter in and play with the lighter tones in Namjoon’s hair. He looks at you with his ferociously focused gaze, something that you had never squirmed under before but now find your cheeks burning as he doesn’t look away.

You sigh contentedly. “More or less. Look at me, I’m surrounded by books.”

Namjoon gets closer to the shelves, leaning down to be eye-level with you through the shelves. “So what’s missing?”

“Hmm?” You hum, getting a little lost as music starts up somewhere. You realize with a start that this must be what Min-jee meant by practicing piano, as the soft sound comes from somewhere hidden.

There’s a little smile on Namjoon’s face, just enough for a dimple to appear. “You said more or less. What are you missing still?”

Edging a little closer and nearly closing your eyes at the smell of leather, you’re tempted to reach through the shelf and poke at the little indent in his cheek. “Just your glasses, I think. I love it when you wear your glasses.”

The statement takes him by surprise, Namjoon’s dragon-like gaze dropping and a flush taking over his features before he steps back. “Hmph.” With that, he continues down the aisle, the red book still in his hands and the blue in yours. “I still think you would be Jo, though.”

“Why?”

The two of you match footsteps, languidly walking along the seemingly endless rows. You catch glimpses of him through the books, a soft dimpled smile on his face as he looks down at his feet. It’s enough to make your coy smile grow, and you clutch the book tighter to your chest.

Finally, Namjoon comes to a stop as another book catches his eye. You take the opportunity to round the corner and enter the aisle he stands in, feet carrying you closer to him. Just as you’re about to reach his side, he speaks.

“Jo is...well, for one, she’s a dreamer. And we both know you’ve got a lot of dreams in that head of yours.” He taps your forehead for emphasis, side-smile growing when you scowl. “But she’s a realistic dreamer. You’ve given up a lot for your dreams, but I believe that you’d leave it all behind if someone you loved was in need of you.”

You blink, unprepared for the genuine compliment.

“And,” Namjoon says breathily, sliding the book back into its place and turning on his heel to walk away. “You two share a tendency to be oblivious to others feelings for you.”

He keeps walking, leaving you to become a sputtering mess before launching yourself after him. “I- we what?!” You all but screech, wincing as you sound twice as loud in the empty shop. “I am not oblivious-”

With a triumphant smirk, Namjoon heads down a little slope that leads toward a sitting area. “Be honest with yourself. You wouldn’t have had any idea about the pact or anything if Jungkook hadn’t spilled it.”

“But that’s not my fault!” You defend, glaring defiantly at his back. “You guys had that under lock and key!”

Diving into another row, Namjoon looks contemplative. “Ok, that may be true. But tell me the truth: did you ever once suspect that...I don’t know, there might be something more going on? Even just once?”

You stand out in the main walkway still, frozen by his question. “Er…” Pausing to think, you squint down at the book still in your hands.

Of course there were moments that had your heart pumping a little faster and a blush rising to your cheeks. Movie nights always meant some form of cuddling, but you quickly just assumed that it was all part of the friendship. Good morning texts that made you sink back into your pillows with a lazy smile, or the little facts that one of the boys would remember about you always made you stop and wonder.

But you never actually entertained the idea. It all seemed too…

“Unrealistic,” you mumble aloud. When Namjoon looks at you quizzically, you walk down a few rows until something catches your eye. You delight in the fact that now he’s following you. “I guess I had little moments where I wondered, but it just seemed like wishful thinking.”

Stopping near the end of the row and looking up at the top shelf, you wiggle on your tip-toes trying to grab a book. Your fingers barely graze the spine of the book before a warm presence overshadows you and Namjoon’s fingers ghost over your own before tugging the brown book from its spot. Still pressed against your back, his light breathing makes the hair on the back of your neck tingle as he lowers the book into your waiting hands.

“Moments like this?” He whispers, hands coming to rest just above your hips.

Suddenly, you recall a moment from months before, when you’d been in a similar situation. The boys had invited you over for some breakfast on one of their rare morning’s off. You’d wanted some cereal, only to find the bowls on the very top shelf. Namjoon had come to your rescue, pulling the exact same move before awkwardly pausing and looking as though he’d wanted to say something. He hadn’t, and instead rushed out of the kitchen before you could even utter a ‘thank you’.

Turning around in his grasp, you can see that he wears a similar expression as before. This time, however, he looks determined to say whatever comes to mind.

With a quiet voice you whisper, “Who in their right mind puts bowls on the top shelf?”

Namjoon’s grip on your hips tightens as he throws his head back and laughs, the kind of laugh that sinks right into your bones. All you can do is watch him, feeling like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Perhaps it’s the first time you’ve ever allowed yourself to look freely.

“Ah, so you did notice,” he whispers back. “You acted like nothing happened, so I figured I was in the clear.”

With a roll of your eyes, you’re stepping out of his grasp and taking a look down at the new book in your hand. “With you, Mr. Kim, we’re never in the clear.”

He lets out a low hiss, but lets you walk away. Not like you realize he’s not following you anymore, you’re idly wandering around while thumbing through the mystery novel. It looks like it might be an original copy from one of your favorite authors. One that passed away in the 1950’s, but still stands out among the countless authors that have come after them.

You’ve made it down to the small sitting area, where a large fireplace is crackling.

“Huh,” you smile. As if this place couldn’t get any better. Plopping down on the couch, you let out a sigh at how the cushions sink and welcome you into their warm embrace. Setting the blue book off to the side, you open up the brown one and begin to read.

You’ve nearly completed the first chapter - knees tucked to your chest as you lean against the arm of the couch - when you hear footsteps approaching.

Expecting it to be Namjoon, you glance over your shoulder with a smile. It’s Min-jee, who returns the smile with a knowing look. You listen closely and realize that her piano practice must be over. Classical music plays over the speakers in the shop instead.

“Namjoon’s gone upstairs,” she explains, coming to adjust something in the fireplace. “He said something about finding an item for his studio.”

You close the book softly, stretching before sitting up straight. “What’s upstairs? More books?”

“No, we’ve expanded our antique selection, there’s an assortment of desks and chairs up there, among other things.”

Making an ‘o’ with your mouth, you get up. “This place is amazing, by the way.” You hold up the brown book with an excited expression. “I found this - I think it’s an original! How much is it?”

Min-jee makes her way over to you, smiling softly as she recognizes the book. “You’re a fan of this author too, huh? My grandad used to read these to me back before I had to start running the shop.” She offers you a fond look. “Oh, and Namjoon told me to put whatever you like on his tab. So don’t worry about it. Take the book.”

She must notice your shock, because she places a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “He also told me that you might be hesitant to get anything because of that. But honestly, get it. And ‘The Cottage by the Sea’. That’s one of my favorites, actually.” Min-jee nods at the blue book with its golden seashell.

“Ah, he knows me too well,” you sigh. “This might be silly to ask, but...do you think it’s alright? You know, to just get them?”

Min-jee, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t laugh at your question. Instead, she sees right through you, to the worry in your heart.  The last thing you want is to take advantage of any of the boys. “It would make him happy,” she responds, watching your reaction carefully. You immediately let out a sigh of relief, nodding and picking up the books.

“Alright,” you concede. “I’ll get them, then.”

“Great! I’ll take them up front and hold them for you, if you’d like.”

“That’s perfect.”

While she whisks away your books, you follow after her until you reach the staircase. She nods encouragingly, and you head up.

Clearing the stairs, it doesn’t take long to locate Namjoon. He’s standing in front of a large wardrobe, inspecting every inch of it. The sight makes you smile, enjoying the way he’s chewing on the inside of the cheek.

“Don’t tell me that’s what you’re getting for the studio,” you drawl, making your way toward him. He looks back at you, a wide smile interrupting his cheek chewing.

“I mean...no, but look at it!” He exclaims. “It’s beautiful, isn't it? Honestly, if I moved some things around, I could probably make it fit.”

You reach the wardrobe, marveling at the expert craftsmanship. “It’s gorgeous. But what would you even put in it? It’s not like you take all of your coats to the studio. And you want your trophies to be visible, don’t you?”

This thing must weigh a ton, the wood is thick and the hinges smooth. “Hmm...no, but I can think of something else I could hide away in here.” The way Namjoon glances over at you with a sly grin makes you stumble back, red rushing to your cheeks as you suddenly become preoccupied with a very old typewriter.

“What would that be?” You venture, running your fingers over the keyboard. You’re waiting for his answer, which you’re sure will be a single word - you. However, just as he’s opening his mouth and looking like he’s garnering the courage to say it, the creaky staircase announces someone’s arrival.

At first you think nothing of it, but Min-jee’s voice is loud. Loud enough that you know she’s trying to be heard.

“I told you, we don’t sell anything BTS related in this store.” She says, and you and Namjoon share a puzzled look.

A couple of voices respond, but one in particular stands out as she raises her voice. “I swear, I saw Kim Namjoon walking around in here just a few minutes ago!”

Their footsteps are growing closer, and you suddenly realize that this is Min-jee’s way of warning you two.

Rushing over to Namjoon’s side, you look around frantically. “Is there another way out?” You whisper. Clearly the staircase is blocked at the moment. When he shakes his head, you’re about ready to suggest causing a distraction but he suddenly gasps.

Quickly and quietly, he’s swinging open the wardrobe and nudging you inside, quickly following. You raise your eyebrows, mouth opening to ask him just how this is going to help anything, but he allows the door to swing shut and presses a hand against your mouth.

Back pressed against the back of the wardrobe and Namjoon looming over you, the two of you hardly dare to breathe as you strain to listen to what’s going on outside.

“I’m pretty sure I would know if he was in my shop,” Min-jee is saying, sounding much closer now. “And right now the upstairs is off-limits, so please-”

“Look, I know I must sound crazy, but I’m absolutely positive that I saw him in here. I was just outside and he went up the stairs! And now you expect me to believe what you’re saying?”

You keep your eyes trained on the thin opening where light is streaming in, trying to see what’s going on. Namjoon, however, shuffles a little closer, hand slipping from your mouth and staring down at you. He braces his hands on either side of your head, needing to bend over a little bit due to the small space.

“For the last time,” Min-jee defends, “the upstairs portion of this shop is closed. As you can tell, nobody is up here besides us. If you wish to continue this conversation, I would simply ask that we do it downstairs.”

You bite your lip, looking up at Namjoon and about to whisper something about how Min-jee deserves a raise. The words die on your tongue, however, when you finally catch sight of him.

Namjoon is slouching a bit, and you realize that his hands are on either side of your head. His hair is slightly mussed, from what you’re unsure. However, that’s not what has your breath catching in your throat.

He’s looking down at you in a way that suddenly makes you aware of just how small the wardrobe is, and has you mentally cursing yourself for coming up here in the first place. Namjoon is looking at you, looking at you in a way that you immediately recognize.

Like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to.

You watch the way his eyes follow the way your throat constricts as you swallow, the way they trace the slope of your nose and the dip above your lip.

The voices fade away as Namjoon’s fingers feather through your hair, light enough to make your heart melt. He does so slowly, eyes reading your own in order to see if he’s somehow crossed a line that he shouldn’t have.

You, however, are sick of all these dumb lines and boundaries that have been set. Somehow, Namjoon must see that, because he’s opening his mouth and whispering out what he’s been thinking this entire time.

“You,” he mumbles as he watches the strand of hair he tucks behind your ear. Almost as though to verify that this is real, that it’s actually happening. “I’d tuck you away in here, and nobody would find us.”

Breathing has become impossible at this point.

“No prying eyes, no invisible lines to make sure I don’t cross,” he’s tracing the line of your jaw now, and you don’t miss the slight tremor in his hand. “Would you like that as much as I would?”

His eyes land on yours, eyebrows coming together as he awaits your answer. You would smile if you could, but you find that you’ve turned to putty at his touch. Instead, you slowly nod before breathing out, “Yes.”

That’s when you realize that Namjoon is just as tired of rules as you are. Namjoon, the dedicated leader that always makes sure everything is in order. Namjoon, who constantly forgets things like his phone and wallet, but never forgets to say please and thank you.

Namjoon, who leans impossibly closer until you’re closing your eyes for fear of going cross-eyed. His breath fans across your nose, acting as your only warning before his lips find yours.

Light as a feather against your mouth, Namjoon kisses you.

As you sigh against his lips, you suddenly understand why kissing was prohibited. Because right now, all that you can think of - every breath, every heartbeat - it’s all saying the same thing.

Namjoon.

Just as your hands find their way to his chest and bunching up the fabric, he’s jumping back with a gasp and stumbling through the door of the wardrobe. You see his wide eyes, but you’re too busy standing there completely frozen and praying that nobody is up here still.

He looks around frantically, but looks at you with utter horror as the same voice as before pipes up from downstairs.

“See! I’m telling you that someone is up there-”

“Oh! Did you see that? I think I just saw him taking the emergency exit!” Min-jee retorts, and you can picture her frantically pointing out the window in an effort to distract the girls. “Hurry! He looked like he was running!”

The bell above the door chimes, excited voices fading as the group exits the shop. However, their timely exit does little to soothe the raging heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

“I- I’m not supposed to do that,” Namjoon reminds himself aloud. “Please, I’m so sorry-”

“They’re gone!” Min-jee calls out, poking her head up as she ascends the stairs. She spots you still standing in the wardrobe. “Oh, so that’s where you were hiding. Anyway, I’ve locked up the front, so we shouldn’t be having any more trouble with that.”

You can only offer her a weak smile, Namjoon still staring at you with that horrible, guilt-ridden expression, which you’re dying to erase.

“Thank you,” you say when Min-jee begins to notice the odd silence. “We’ll be down in a second, I think.”

Namjoon nods along, finally looking away to check the time. “Actually, we’ve got a reservation,” your stomach flips at the thought of sitting through an entire meal with his guilty apologies, “is there a way we can sneak out of here without being seen?”

Min-jee blinks, looking between the two of you but not saying anything. “Ok...um, yeah. The back alleyway should be clear, it’ll lead to the parking lot.”

Finally stepping out of the wardrobe, you look back at it with a glare.

“So much for Narnia,” you mumble, closing the door.

ˆˆˆˆ

Min-jee quickly places your books in a bag - Namjoon ends up getting the red one as well - and offers it to you with a smile. Automatically you reach out for it, but so does Namjoon. The second your hands meet you can’t help but jump, and the bag falls to the floor.

“Oh no,” you whimper out, feeling sorry for the old books. Before you can lean down to get them, Namjoon’s swooping them up and keeping a firm grip on the bag. He mumbles out a soft, “sorry” before following Min-jee toward the back exit.

The two of you thank her profusely for the day, and you promise that you’ll return soon. There’s no way you can leave a place like that alone for very long. Namjoon smiles for a moment, looking pleased that he picked a good place. However, once he catches your eye, he’s back to chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Slyly sneaking down down the alleyway, it’s quiet between the two of you. No matter how hard you pinch yourself, your thoughts keep zoning in on the way Namjoon’s lips felt on yours...the way he looked at you just before he leaned in...how perfect everything had been until he’d come to his senses-

You’ve made it to the car, and you click the unlock button, jumping back as it honks. Man, you’ve got to get out of your head.

Namjoon hurries to set the bag in the backseat before rushing to the driver’s side, opening the door up for you with significantly less flourish than before.

Knowing Namjoon, it’s eating him up alive. And there’s no way you’re about to let a kiss - something to celebrate, in your opinion - ruin the rest of this date.

Especially when it may very well be the only one you get.

“Namjoon,” you say, walking slowly toward him. His eyes jump up to yours, and you can already see that he’s hard at work trying to pretend like everything is fine.

“We’re going to be about an hour early for our reservation,” Namjoon admits, running a hand through his hair and immediately trying to fix it after. “I’m sorry for rushing you out of there, I wasn’t thinking straight. You can go back in, if you want. I’ll wait out here until you’re ready-”

“Namjoon.” He quits his rambling, red cheeks somehow turning redder as you stop before him. “I wanted you to kiss me.”

At this, he lets the door fall shut. “You...did?”

Wanting nothing more than to dispel the awkward tension, you laugh. “Of course I did! I’d be an idiot if I didn’t! So please...it’s nobody’s fault. So what, you broke a stupid rule-”

“And I’ve hurt the guys in the process of breaking that rule,” Namjoon explains, looking at you with clear, pained eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me regretting kissing you because- w-well, that’s not the point!” Leaning back against the car, you follow suit just as a large stormcloud blocks out the sun. It’s going to rain soon.

“Namjoon, you’ve all found ways to skirt around the rules in some way,” you confess, remember Hobi’s sweet hand kiss and Taehyung’s forehead kiss. “Sure, you actually broke the rule, but nobody is going to hate you for it. Nobody. Least of all me.”

He leans his head back, closing his eyes as he lets out a long breath. “It’s just, we all agreed to give you enough space to make a clear decision if you felt like you wanted to make one at the end of all this,” he confesses, not seeing the way your eyes widen. Oh. “And I’ve completely screwed that up.”

Sighing, you squint as a fat raindrop lands on your nose. “Well, we’re on a date, aren’t we? People sometimes kiss- I mean, honestly, we could have done a lot worse-” Namjoon chokes on his spit at that. “But if you need something to blame, please don’t blame yourself. Because I love this date, and as far as I can tell, the kiss only made it better.”

He peeks one eye open at you. “Really?”

“Really.” You shrug. “And see? I really am Amy! I always get what I want!” You don’t add the fact that that wasn’t quite true with Hoseok or Taehyung. “If anything, blame the wardrobe. Wardrobes are wacky, anyways.”

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes. “Blame the wardrobe? Really?”

“Yeah! Sometimes they transport you to Narnia, sometimes they mess with your common sense,” you give him a pointed look, which he avoids. “So if the boys get all upset about it, just tell them it was the wardrobe. I’ll back you up on it.”

Finally, Namjoon laughs. Like, the annoying little hyena laugh that he hates but you secretly love. And when he looks back down at you and opens up the door, he doesn’t look so upset about it.

“Be honest, would you have rather gone to Narnia or been stuck in there with me?”

You feign annoyance. “Ugh, just get in the car.”

From the way your stomachs were rumbling and the rain was pouring, the two of you decided to bag the reservation. It was for some posh outdoor restaurant in Seoul that Namjoon pretended to be excited about.

Which is exactly how you ended up going through the McDonald’s drive thru and bringing it back to your place.

“Aren’t you on a diet or something?” You ask around your fries, eyes not leaving the television screen. The two of you had decided on Gone With the Wind, completely forgetting just how long it was.

Namjoon makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, taking a swig of his drink. “Yeah, something like that. Today’s my cheat day, though.”

“Aw, you decided to spend your cheat day with me?” You tease. Namjoon rolls his eyes, finally deciding that maybe you really are Amy from Little Women. However, he can’t fight the feeling that he’s the Laurie to your Jo.

Not that he’ll be telling you that anytime soon. He’s certainly done enough today.

“More like our date happened to fall on my cheat day,” he bites back. “And I heard that they have really good cheesecake at that restaurant we bailed on.”

You hesitate before taking another bite of your food. “Should we have gone? They probably would’ve given us our food to go if we didn’t want to sit under the umbrellas. I feel bad, you made reservations and everything.”

Namjoon shrugs. “No, this is way better.” He holds up his McFlurry for emphasis. “They even had the cheesecake McFlurry back in season! Coincidence?”

“I think not!”

You both chuckle before falling back into the companionable silence you’d been in before. Over the course of the drive back to Seoul, you’d taken your time, stopping at a handful of little parks along the way. Namjoon had imitated the ducks before realizing how silly he looked, then hiding behind his hands for a solid five minutes before he could look you in the eyes again. Overall, it had been calm and relaxing.

As you watch Scarlett O’Hara flirting it up with different suitors on the screen, you can’t help but wonder if that’s you.

Sure, Gina told you back at the haunted house to just enjoy it. Chances are it was all just a phase, anyways. There was all of this romantic tension between you and the boys that would naturally fade away as their curiosity diminished after their dates.

At least, that’s what you assumed. However you’re quickly coming to realize that you’re a little out of depth here.

“You alright over there?” Namjoon asks, pulling you from your thoughts. “You have your thinking face on.”

You blink. “I have a thinking face?”

“Of course,” Namjoon replies as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so stressed?”

“No,” you say a little too quickly. “I’m just...thinking about the movie.” Not entirely a lie.

You know he won’t push it if you don’t want to talk about it, but you take a little bit of enjoyment in the way his lip pouts out. “Alright, if you say so.”

Only a few more minutes pass before he speaks up again, sounding a little hesitant. “You know that this is a long movie…”

“Oh, should we end it here?” You ask, a little disappointed because you were just getting to one of your favorite parts. “You don’t need to feel like you have to stay-”

“No, not that. I’m gonna finish the movie. It’s just,” he wipes his fingers off on a spare napkin before scooting a little closer to you. “Long movies call for cuddling, don’t you think?”

You nearly choke on your saliva. “You- you, as in Kim Namjoon, want to cuddle? You’re into cuddling?”

He laughs, tugging on your arm until you give in and collapse against his side. You hope that your content sigh isn’t too noticeable when he drapes an arm around your shoulder. “It just depends sometimes. But yes, I am. At the appropriate times.”

“Ah, and long movies-”

“Are the epitome of the appropriate time,” he explains, lightly pinching your arm when you let out a wry laugh.

“Hey!” You cry out, only to be shushed by him.

“Shhh, I’m trying to watch this.”

You just can’t find it in you to be annoyed.

You’re asleep before the film is over, despite the fact that the sun barely went down. Something about having a full stomach and leaning your head on Namjoon’s shoulder just lulled you right to sleep.

You stir a little when Namjoon fidgets, pulling his phone out to call someone. His voice is deep and quiet, trying not to wake you.

“Hey, can you pick me up now?”

Despite your half-asleep state, you crack a smile. It’s quiet, but you can hear a familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m close to there right now. Be there in a couple minutes. You’re at her apartment, right?”

“Thanks. Yeah, she’s conked out on the couch.”

There’s a laugh ringing through the phone. “Cute. Make sure she rests up, she’ll need it for our date next week.”

Namjoon sighs, not quite annoyed but not exactly pleased, either. “Yah, just hurry over.” He pauses for a moment. “Do you think I should wake her up to say goodbye?”

“Your call. But I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna give her a kiss goodbye. If she’s that tired, I’d just let her sleep.”

Your cheeks involuntarily turn red, and you can only imagine the way Namjoon looks right now. It’s his silence that gives him away.

“Hyung...what-”

“Text me when you get here,” Namjoon says, and suddenly the call ends.

Oh, he’s in for it tonight.

Stretching and trying to look like you totally weren’t just eavesdropping, you crack open your eyes to see Namjoon looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I would tell you that you missed the ending, but something tells me you’ve seen it before,” he drawls.

You chuckle breathily, yawning as you stretch your arms over your head. “Yeah, a couple of times.”

“I’m about to head out,” Namjoon begins, back to chewing on the inside of his cheek. “But thank you for going out with me. I seriously...it was just the best.” He smiles softly, and you wish you could have a picture of it.

Instead, you opt for nuzzling back into his side. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one thanking you? It was great, Namjoon-ah. I’ll have to read that book you got some time.”

He hums, returning the sentiment. “Yeah, we’ll do a book swap.” His phone lights up, but before you can see who it’s from, he’s snatching it up and jumping up from the couch. “They’re here.”

It’s tempting to not resort to begging him to stay a little longer - if only for the sake of his warmth which is quickly fading as he retreats to the door. However, you only pad after him, stopping him before he reaches the door.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his chest. “Tell everyone I say hello.”

“I will.” And with a rush of cool air, he’s out the door.

Gone, leaving you to stare blankly and wonder what just happened today.

And worse yet, what’s yet to come.

main masterlist

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[awanderingdeal]

Hello there! Would you please consider writing a fic where maybe Leo or a fan wears a dress or paints his nails or something else feminine and gets bullied online so the entire team then starts wearing dresses out in retaliation? I think Leo is the perfect example of flipping the V to normative gender ideals

Hi! Thank you for this ask. I hope you don't mind, but I kind of took this as inspiration and ran with it. I used Finn just because it fits my own personal headcanons that he would be the one that would be a bit more adventurous fashion wise, although I definitely agree Leo is the nail painter in that relationship! I hope you like it!

Apologies for the excessive use of italics in this fic!

CW: food mentions, some swearing, implied Instagram bullying and a child with very mild illness (hay fever).

Rating: T

Let me know if you think I missed anything or need to change the rating.

All characters in this fic are from Sweater Weather universe and belong to @lumosinlove

“Are you going to take that dress off?” June asked, blowing on the undercoat she’d just applied to her nails. Finn’s eyes dropped from the TV screen to the black fabric draping over his body. He brushed his fingers over the material, enjoying the texture of the sheer polka dots that decorated the dress. From afar, they were difficult to see, but at this distance they shined. His own little secret.

“No,” Finn replied, the word slipping from his mouth felt foreign, as if he hadn’t chosen to say it. “ Is that okay?”

“It’s generally considered polite to ask before you borrow people’s clothing, but sure, why not?” A loud cheer erupted from the TV notifying Finn the score on the basketball game he had been watching had changed. He desperately wanted to check it, but he continued to hold June’s gaze. “The Knicks,” June offered and Finn breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you going to wear it out later?” She didn’t wait for his reply, proffering two bottles of polish for Finn’s perusal, a redcurrant and a mauve.

“The red,” Finn decided after a beat. “No, I think I’ll get changed before we go to the theatre.”

“Alright then,” June hummed, glancing at her cell. “Logan is trying to call you, by the way.”

“Yes, my cell, I know exactly where that is,” Finn muttered to himself, stabbing at the remote to pause the TV. It took a few minutes of searching, the device hidden between the folds of the bean bag he was lounging on, but eventually Logan’s face was filling all 6.1 inches of the screen. “Lo!”

“Hey.”

Finn loved the greeting on Logan’s tongue, one of those that he never seemed to be able to stop his accent dripping through. Finn thought perhaps the sentiment was painted on his face, Logan peering at him curiously through the lens. “Isn’t that June’s dress?”

The dress. Finn had forgotten all about it. “Yes.”

He hadn’t meant for the reply to be said with such abruptness, but it felt good, all the tension coiling in his chest being released in the word.

Logan’s expression was challenging, similar to that June had given him earlier. “I was just going to say you look better in it.”

“Oh.”

June unfurled her legs from beneath her, throwing herself into view of the screen, her left hand held awkwardly in front of her. “I’m right here, Tremblay!”

***

“Love, you need to get out of the kitchen. You’re being very distracting.”

Finn frowned at Leo’s statement. “I’m not doing anything?” And for once, he wasn’t. He wasn’t trying to guess the weight of irrelevant objects. He wasn’t playing with the stray bits of dough Leo had left aside for decoration. He wasn’t even relaying facts about his current favourite interest. Finn was just watching.

Sometimes he liked to do that. He liked seeing Leo’s long fingers curled around the handle of the knife, his movements fluid and confident, his expression soft with quiet concentration. Occasionally, he’d cock his head, humming contemplatively and Finn could take the opportunity to offer his taste buds.

“It’s not a you problem, it’s a me problem,” Leo chuckled, setting the knife down on the chopping board. “I keep looking up and you’re just -” Finn followed Leo’s gaze as it wandered down to the exposed skin between Finn’s t-shirt and his skirt. “- I’m trying to meal prep and it’s going to take all week at this rate.”

The t-shirt had belonged to Logan, an old Harvard hockey throwback that had managed to make it through several wardrobe purges, so, whilst it was wide enough for Finn, the length was awkward. He hadn’t really considered his boyfriend’s reactions as he’d cut the item to fall several inches above his belly button, the crop looking far more purposeful than it previously had.

“Oh this old thing, I just threw it on,” Finn smirked, as he pushed off the counter he'd been leaning on. He rounded the island, stealing a carrot as he passed, until he planted himself in front of Leo. "Do you want help? It'd be quicker?"

"Now we both know neither of those things are true." Leo raised a critical eyebrow, his laughter smooth and sweet. He turned to face Finn more fully, his hand reaching to pass the forest green material of Finn's skirt through his fingers. "I like this colour on you."

"It has pockets! I totally get why Lily's always shouting about them. They're very convenient." Finn shoved his hands in the well-concealed pocket, pulling his cell from its depths. "See."

"Nice," Leo said, his smile making the edges of his face crinkle. "How about you let me finish up here and then we can find Lo and get his opinion on this outfit?"

"Fine," Finn groaned, resisting the temptation to draw Leo in a hug, and perhaps something more. "I'm gonna go and look over that report the accountant sent over. Do you want me to check yours over too?"

"Please," Leo nodded, his smile growing wider. "You're the best."

"You feed me, I make sure you don't get arrested, that's what relationships are all about, right?"

"Right," Leo ran his fingers over the skirt one last time and stepped back to put some space between them. Finn turned to leave, barely getting a few paces in before Leo called him. "Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"Just one kiss now would be okay."

Finn shook his head, letting Leo draw him back in with a chuckle. Leo's hands, always warm, settled on Finn's waist and he leaned down to press their lips together.

***

Finn winced as Aveline sneezed again, the forceful burst of air covering his sweater in droplets. He felt sorry for her; she was struggling with a bout of hay fever that was making her red-nosed and irritable, but the sweater was one of Finn’s favourites. A vintage, hand knitted blue thing he’d found in a thrift store in Cambridge for an absolute steal. Back then, it had been the scene of Bambi and his friends on it that had grasped Finn’s attention, however, he’d come to love it for its perfect fit and the fact it never failed to spark a conversation.

“Harzy, thank you. You’re a lifesaver.” Finn tried not to let his relief show too much seeing Kris’ approach, his arms outstretched to gather his daughter. “I can’t even put her down to go to the bathroom at the moment without her screaming.”

Finn chuckled, holding a wriggling Aveline tighter to stop her launching herself before her father was close enough. “Papa!” she cried, the exclamation melded neatly into a large yawn.

“Come, mon chou,” Kris soothed, letting Aveline bury her face into the crook of his neck and playing a gentle pattern with his fingers over her back. “Let’s go and see if Vroom-vroom has any magic up his sleeve, ey? He always knows what to do.”

“Vroom-vroom?” Finn whispered the question.

“Sergei,” Kris explained with a gleeful smile despite the tiredness etched into his face. He shifted Aveline into a more comfortable position. “Thanks again for holding her.”

“Anytime.”

Finn had barely been alone in the Dumais’ second living room for a minute when Katie came crashing in. He wondered briefly if he should redirect her back to the other room where everybody was gathered, the thought quickly interrupted by Katie tugging on the hem of his skirt. “Can you spin again? Please?”

Unable to resist her large doe eyes, Finn twirled for her, his skirt swirling and billowing around him until he began to go dizzy.

“Encore! Encore!”

Finn didn’t need Logan around to translate that for him, he’d seen enough Broadway shows to understand the request.

“No more, Katie Belle. I’m going to puke,” Finn laughed, lifting Katie into his arms. “You’re growing too quickly! I swear you were only this big the last time I saw you,” he teased, spreading the thumb and index finger of his free hand a few inches apart.

“I’ll be as tall as you soon!” Katie giggled, patting Finn on his head.

“Then you can carry me,” Finn teased. He was just reaching to bop Katie on the nose when the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter closing grabbed his attention.

“Logan!” Katie gasped, struggling in Finn’s arms for a second like little Aveline had done. “Put me down.”

Finn obliged, watching Katie run toward Logan with a fond smile.

“Did you fix it?” she asked, her voice hopeful.

“Ouais,” Logan nodded, “I gave it back to Maja.”

“Merci, merci, merci!” Katie wrapped her arms around Logan’s hips in a hug before running off, presumably to find Maja.

Finn crossed the room, opening his arms for Logan to walk into. He rested his chin on Logan’s head, breathing in the familiar smell of his shampoo. “What were you up to?”

“Just taking a photo of two of my favourite people,” Logan mumbled into Finn’s chest.

“Can I see?”

“Oui, it’s very cute. ” Logan stepped back, pulling the photo up onto the screen. It was a nice one, both Finn and Katie’s head tipped back slightly with bright laughter. Finn tracked down the photo, Katie’s legs clinging to his waist where the faux leather skirt started. He breathed in, filling his lungs with air and then expelling it quickly.

“Post it.”

Logan looked at him, eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

“Not really, but I’m fed up with changing my clothes all the time and I’m surprised I haven’t been papped anyway. I’d rather do this on my own terms. It’s a fucking skirt, it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Tell me to do it again,” Logan reached out a hand, squeezing gently as Finn took it.

“Post it.”

***

“Stop reading,” Leo sighed, plucking Finn’s cell from his hand.

Finn matched his sigh, burying his head into his hands. He didn’t need to look at the screen anyway, the words burned into his eyes. How anybody had looked at a photo of two people, one of whom was a child, laughing and had churned out hatred was mystifying to him. Finn had been expecting that though, he’d been around long enough to know there were some assholes out there. When he’d replied to one of the nicer ones he hadn’t really considered how he would feel about that going viral. About becoming the face of something he hadn’t really asked for.

Roaringlion17: Harzy! This fit is spectacular, I love the skirt <3 I just wanted to ask if you are trans and what pronouns you would like us to use?

OfficialFOHara: @roaringlion17 Thank you! He/him pronouns are great! I’m not trans. I just think it’s dumb that boys can’t wear skirts. Or dresses for that matter. I like clothes, not boxes.

The reply had now been featured on every gossip column possible and was beginning to filter into more esteemed news too. One of them had even called him, the face of a revolution, which had made Finn cringe. He supposed it was better than the hateful slurs his PR team were battling to keep off the photo.

“Hey,” Logan took the seat next to Finn where he’d slumped himself at the dining table. “Look at me.” Finn lifted his head, meeting Logan’s eyes, the deep green something he wanted to get lost in right now. He thought Logan was going to ask for the thousandth time if Finn wanted him to delete it, but all he got was the fierce, determined gaze Logan sported on the ice. “This is going to pass. Tomorrow, somebody will cheat on somebody and you will be old news. Do you want to see something?”

Finn nodded. He didn’t know what he was consenting to, but he trusted Logan to make it something that would make him smile. Leo dragged another of the chairs around to sit on Finn’s left hand side, setting his confiscated cell in front of him, the Instagram app open to Thomas’ profile. Logan leaned forward, tapping on the latest photo.

Thomas’ smile was wide as he sat on a window sill, kicking out the long zebra print skirt cloaking his legs. The caption underneath read ‘You’re just jealous that I wear it better than you! #boyswearskirtstoo’

“That’s -”

“Wait a second,” Logan reached for the phone again, setting it down with a picture of James’ visible. He was wearing an ochre coloured corduroy skirt that clearly belonged to Lily, the fabric straining on thighs. I’m feeling myself in this, tbh. Please hold whilst I order one in my size #boys wearskirtstoo.

Finn snorted, the sound wet with the tears he was struggling to hold back.

The hashtags kept coming.

Cap and Loops in their respective jersey’s tucked into pleated skirts. These Lions know fashion is not gendered #boyswearskirtstoo

Ollie in a shimmering gold knee length piece. Shine bright! #boyswearskirtstoo

Nado, Kuny, Smitty and Kane, arms slung around one another's shoulders, all wearing varying shades of pink. On Wednesdays, we wear pink #boyswearskirtstoo. Finn would bet good money that Kuny was behind that caption.

Dumo, Sergei and their wives, alongside their troupe of children, each one of them wearing a different coloured tutu. Dumo had opted to just include the hashtag, or rather his social media team had, because the man himself most definitely did not know how to upload the photo.

Kasey and Natalie looked effortlessly cool dressed in white tennis skirts and floral bomber jackets. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about? #boyswearskirtstoo

Alex was wearing a very similar black skirt to Finn's in his photo. Who wore it better? #boyswearskirtstoo #thatsmylittlebrother

“He’s an idiot, but I love him,” Finn laughed wetly.

“There’s more,” Logan smirked as he tapped at the screen again, almost brimming with an excited energy. He placed the cell back down, leaving his hand to block the next photo a little longer. Finn grabbed the device as soon as Logan revealed the image.

It was perfect.

Leo and Logan lounged on the sofa, a little further apart than they would normally sit. Leo clutching his favourite mug and Logan with sketchpad in hand. They both looked easy in their outfits, as if the skirts were a part of them. Leo’s was long, hitting just above his ankle, a navy lining coated in a tulle that was embellished with celestial bodies. Logan was looking at the camera, his eyes just visible under the brim of his cap. His skirt was shorter, the denim flaring over his thick thighs. In this house we respect people’s right to wear whatever the fuck they want #boyswearskirtstoo

Finn stopped trying to fight the tears, letting the moisture well in his eyes. “Thank you,” he choked out, pushing himself from his chair. Leo and Logan had their arms around him before he could ask. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He couldn’t seem to make the words stop, his body shaking with sobs, his boyfriend’s arms remaining sure around him until Finn wiped at his face and muttered an apology. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.” Leo swept his thumb over Finn’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “What can we do? What do you need?”

Finn let out a heavy breath, leaning into Logan’s hold. “I think I want to send a thank you to the group chat and then snacks and cuddles? I can deal with the world tomorrow.”

“Okay then, snacks and cuddles. We deal with the world tomorrow.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Hope: The Smuggler

A continuation on this little piece I posted a couple of days ago. Just something small knocking around inside my mind. 

CW: Escaped pet whumpee, BBU, guns, scarring, referenced past torture, ~mysterious world-building references~

“Allie!” Gyasi hops down from the truck, the tread of her work boots crunching into the rock salt scattered over the road to melt the ice. 

Snowflakes are already starting to drift down, landing in Gyasi’s hair and laying white and beautiful against her black braids pulled back low at her neck. They melt a moment later, but it’s definitely snowing a little more than it was a half an hour ago, and Allie’s sure there’ll be another big buildup tonight. 

Allie’s mouth always goes a little dry when Gyasi is in town, and she has to lock her knees not to have them wobble as she gives her most welcoming smile. “Welcome back, Gya.”

“Always a pleasure.” Gyasi crushes her in a hug. The other woman only comes up to Allie’s nose, and still she feels sort of helpless at every touch. Funny, how she’s the deputy head of security for Hope, and still someone as slim and slight as Gyasi can make her fall to pieces. “I got a team of  six this time, all names you know. We’re going in with seven rescues and a couple libbers with pretty big felony convictions about to come down, hopefully coming back with a metric fucking ton of insulin, plus the usual other shit.”

“Great.” Allie has to clear her throat to keep her voice from coming out husky and trembling. She pulls back from the hug, looking over the truck. The man sitting in the passenger seat gives her a wave, and after a second Allie remembers him, too - Charlie or Chuck. Another truck pulls up behind that, and then a van. “We’ll be sending you in one vehicle at a time. Once we get clearance the first makes it through, we’ll send the next.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how it goes. Rescues first-” Gyasi points to the van. “Then our libbers go in the truck. Chaz and I’ll bring up the rear.”

Right, Chaz. Allie always forgets his name. 

“And if you’re caught-”

“I know, Allie-cat. I was never here, there’s no road through the woods, we snuck through an hour east of here.” Gyasi reaches up to pat the side of her face, and Allie wonders if she’s just going to black out one day when Gya does that. “We didn’t give you away the last time one of us got picked up, we won’t this time, either. Trust me.”

“I try to,” Allie says, voice softening a little. It’s hard, to be soft - her life has been one of needing to always be sharp-edged, ready to kill or fight on command. Softness came only after she made it here, and even then only with time. “You know I try to trust you, Gya.”

“Well, try harder, because I’m trustworthy.” Gyasi laughs, deep and rich, and then her eyes shift to the side. Her smile, wide and bright, starts to fade slightly. It returns a little faded, unsure. "We have a watcher, Al.”

“What?” Allie turns to look over her shoulder, instinctively tensing at the possibility of a threat - and then relaxes. “Oh. He’s, uh. He’s shy. That’s our new kid, he came up from Florida.”

“Oof, what a long trip.”

“You’re not wrong. Leslie said he needed to be in No Man’s Land, although she refused to say why. Come on over here, kiddo!”

If Gyasi tops out with her hair not quite high enough to touch Allie’s nose, Esteban doesn’t even clear her shoulders. He’s a skinny, short thing, drowning in a huge canvas winter coat he’d arrived in. His cheeks and the tip of his nose are bright red from the cold he’s still getting used to, and he’s got big thick black gloves on, a woven knit cap pulled down to cover his ears, dark brown curls sticking out all around it, brown eyes sparkling.

Leslie had left him with fleece-lined jeans, heavy socks and a promise to wear two pairs with his boots, all the sweaters you could imagine, and strict admonitions not to try and go without gloves just because some of the others who’ve been here longer do.

His breath puffs out in front of him as he jogs over from where he’d been lurking at the side of the admin building (well... it’s really just Brock’s house). “H-hey, Allie.”

"You look frozen, Esteban.”

“It’s not so bad,” Esteban says, cheerful as always, even as his nose looks like Rudolph on a bad day. “I’m getting used to it. I wanted to watch the trucks! Who is this? Are these new people like me?”

“Oh, I’m not like you,” Gyasi says, without judgement, but Allie still sees Esteban’s shoulders hunch a little under his layers, catches the embarrassed flush that darkens him even under the cold. “Gyasi Templeton’s the name. I run meds, mostly. And people.”

“Run...?” Esteban’s curiosity overcomes his mood, and he turns to look at the two trucks and the big van, then back at Allie. 

“I’m a smuggler,” Gyasi announces happily. “I smuggle.”

“Right.” Allie points to the van first. “Her group does runs to Canada through here. Meds, runaways, pet lib groups. Other stuff that it might be hard for us to get hold of on this side of the border, Gya’s group can bring through here.”

“Technically, we go through there.” Gyasi points, gesturing to the forest just visible at the horizon, the soft smudged line of dark green and brown. “It’s a bumpy road, let me tell you, halfway up a fucking mountain and back, uh.. you said Esteban?”

“Yeah,” Esteban’s replies, shyly, half-hidden behind Allie. “That’s my name.”

“You pick it out?” Gyasi’s not really that interested, just making conversation. Allie can see her distraction - she’s in a hurry to get moving, hoping to make it through the trees before nightfall and the snow make things too difficult or dangerous and force them to wait it out. 

Esteban, though, doesn’t seem to notice. “Yes! Dr. Osmond let me choose my own name, he was very kind to me. He was very kind.”

Allie swallows, jaw setting into a firm line, shoulders tensing. She, after all, has seen what the kids hands look like under those gloves. Scarred and with one pinky permanently bent, one of his other fingers doesn’t even close. 

“No, he wasn’t,” Gyasi says, and she glances back at the truck, with its engine still rumbling. 

“What?” Esteban blinks. 

“Nobody kind has a runaway Boxie who goes this fucking far to get away from them.”

Esteban looks away, something shifting in his expression. Allie, as a rule, doesn’t give a fuck about sob stories. She has her own, and she’s heard so many on top of that. She stopped letting them sink into her skin a long time ago. But she finds herself wondering what Esteban’s expression - wistful, sad, but oddly bittersweet, too - could possibly mean. 

“Ethan wasn’t nice,” He mumbles. “But Dr. Osmond was, in the lab where I was first.”

Then he gives Gyasi and Allie another bright smile, but it’s more brittle than it was before. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” He says politely. 

Allie frowns, though. “The lab, Estenban? You mean Facility, right?”

“The lab,” Esteban says patiently. “In the Facility. Where I grew up. I’m gonna go, it’s getting cold.”

“Wait, what do you-”

“Later, Allie.” He bumps his shoulder lightly against Allie’s arm as a kind of farewell, and crunches his way back out of the road and onto the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the adjustment house, the first place anyone stays until they’re ready to settle down.

Allie watches him go, a chill settling into her chest.

What lab? Where he grew up? Leslie said he came out of some exec’s house. And the exec sure wouldn’t be a doctor... 

“Cute kid,” Gyasi says, startling Allie back out of her thoughts. “But we have a contact waiting for us at an auto shop in Nick’s Island. Next time we’ll get coffee, right, Allie-cat? And you’ll finally watch Clue with me?”

Allie feels something flutter in her chest. Esteban’s odd mysterious statements forgotten, she quickly nods. “Will do, Gya. Stay safe.”

“I never stay safe, it’d ruin my fun.” Gyasi crushes Allie briefly back into another hug, and then climbs back up into her truck, settling back in. “Let them know we’re going through, we’ll be there in ten or fifteen.”

Allie’s already pulling out her radio. “Your escort’ll be ready for you when you hit the path. You already paid up?”

“Yeah, I paid Brock half direct. You’ll get the other half of your cut when we come back.”

“Right. Half in cash, half in meds.”

“Same as always. See ya, Allie.”

Gyasi’s truck rumbles away, the second truck and then the van following after it. Allie radios the group working the road through the woods today, but her mind keeps going back to Esteban. Dr Osmond. A lab. Where I grew up.

Now what in the hell does that mean?

-

@finder-of-rings @burtlederp @astrobly @doveotions @whump-tr0pes @symphony-of-greys @orchidscript @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @wildfaewhump

[amerrierworld]

The World is Changing

for the request: more nsfw galadriel/reader content? 👀

Summary: Galadriel travels to your world with you. And you introduce her to sex toys.

Characters: Galadriel x you

Word Count: 1,586

Warnings: SMUT. vibrators :) modern AU I guess? welcome to the sin bin

“That’s a microwave.”

“Fascinating.”

You snorted. Galadriel roamed about your home, touching and prodding unusual gadgets and unfamiliar items. 

She had jumped at the chance to come to Earth with you. Being one of the oldest beings in Middle Earth, there were few things that surprised her there, but here, amidst technology and modern culture, there were plenty of new experiences waiting.

She was wearing loose-fitted jeans that hung a little low on her hips. And when she reached up to one of your higher shelves, the knit sweater she had on rode up, revealing more gorgeous pale skin.

You salivated a little at the sight, but forced yourself back to the task at hand; making a decent meal for the both of you.

Her hair shimmered in the light of the setting sun. You offered her something to drink; she wanted to try one of those fizzy cans she’d seen you drink before.

Despite the childlike curiosity in her eyes, her body and demeanour still commanded nobility and respect like the Queen that she was. That quickly disappeared when she belched louder than you ever had, because of her idea to chug the sugary soda.

Dinner was grilled cheese, because you didn't feel like being original today, and you sat on the couch, eating, drinking, chatting. 

“Don’t you wish you’d gone to Valinor instead?” you asked her. “I mean, the Undying Lands, any place with a name like that sounds better than a world named after dirt.”

She chuckled, “one day I will. All Elves are destined to travel there. Our time in the mortal world always comes to an eventual close.”

Shuffling closer, she pulled your plate away and brushed her nose against your jaw, 

“But I wanted to experience something different before the end of all things. And you, meleth-nin, proved to be the most breath-taking change I could have hoped for.”

You squeaked as her lips sucked on a spot beneath your ear. She had a thing for ears.. maybe all Elves did. You couldn’t really think about it much as her malicious tongue swiped over your damp skin, making you shiver.

She pushed some pillows off the couch to make more room for her long legs  as she swung one over yours to straddle your lap. Your hands immediately roved over her ass, tight under the denim of her jeans. She squirmed a little in your hard grip, and kissed you on the mouth.

Your hips were starting to buck up, frustrated by the limitation of the clothes you were wearing. She gasped as you pushed up under her sweater, cupping her breasts- you had not yet introduced her to bras, mostly for the convenience of easy access when needed. Like right now.

You pulled your mouth away and trailed your lips down her neck, worrying your teeth along the column. Her body started rocking familiarly and your fingers tugged at her nipples.

“Fuck!”

Your body burst into flames. Galadriel barely ever swore, usually it was just you, but when she did, it was like an instant aphrodisiac.

Pulling away and tugging her sweater down, you held her ass firmly, making your eyes lock and you breathed,

“Bed.”

She was off your lap in a flash, her body thrumming with lust. You were nearly pulled off of your feet when she grabbed your hands and led you to the bedroom. Despite her slender figure, you were reminded of how strong she was, of the battles she had fought, and how somehow in some strange stroke of luck, this immortal Queen now desired you.

You successfully made it to the bedroom. She immediately wanted you naked, wanted to devour you, but you stopped her. 

“Take off your pants, and lay on the bed.”

She seemed startled by your command, but did as you asked. She pulled her hair out from the high pony tail she had been wearing, letting the long locks tumble down her shoulders, on the pillows. 

You returned with one of your favourite things to use in bed; a small, but extremely powerful vibrator. Her eyebrows furrowed at the strange shape and smooth texture as you showed her.

“This is a vibrator,” you showed her. “Do you wanna try it out?”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, but it may be a little intense the first time. I can show you, if you’d like. I’ll be gentle.”

Her breath hitched as you turned on the toy, the room filling with the low hum of the vibration. 

“And- where do you...”

“Wherever you want,” you replied sweetly. You pressed it to the side of her knee, and her jaw dropped a bit. Her legs fell open, giving you a clear view of the white panties you’d gotten her to wear. 

“If you wanna wear the jeans, please for the love of God wear underwear,” you had begged her, “that material is far too rough. You don’t want to chafe, I swear.”

Now you were exceptionally glad with your persuasion for her choice of wardrobe today, because her pale legs, her underwear barely showing, and the lovely soft sweater over her torso made her too beautiful for words.

“There’s plenty of other toys we can try, later,” you kept talking, pushing the vibe higher, pressing against the sensitive inside of her thighs. Her muscles tensed and her breathing sped up. 

“Y-yes,” she agreed, trying to maintain some sense of dignity as her resolve crumbled, “I-I think this will be sufficient for now.”

You grinned, flashing a smile at her which she weakly returned, and you took the opportunity to run it along the edge of her underwear, close to her clit, but not close enough.

The whine you received was like music.

“Th-thousands of years I’ve lived- a-and I’ve never-,” she choked out, hands scrabbling for purchase at the sheets underneath her heaving body. You avoided direct contact with her skin or her clit, wondering if you’d make her black out with how sensitively she was reacting to the toy. 

“This isn’t even the highest setting, baby,” you grinned, running it in slow circles over the hood of her clit. The panties she was wearing were soaked.

“T-turn it up higher,” she demanded. 

You paused. The only sounds were Galadriel’s gasps and the sound of the toy. 

“Are you sure?”

She pulled you closer by the back of your neck, mouth wide as she kissed you and devoured you, tongue licking into you. 

“Yes.”

You did as she asked, your own mind swimming with arousal, and her body began to tense, her gasps and groans going higher and higher in pitch as she neared orgasm.

Knowing she was close, you reached down with your other hand, pushed aside the panties enough for your fingers to slip through. You pressed inside, curled up and rubbed in that rough, delicious spot inside of her that made her scream, which she did.

Her body convulsed under your touch, thighs shaking as you held her down. One arm thrown over her face, gasping into the crook of her elbow. 

The Lady was sweating, her figure glimmering with a delicious sheen. You smiled wickedly as you tugged her arm away, revealing flushed cheeks and blown eyes. 

She pulled at your grip, wanting to hide her disheveled state, but you didn’t let her go, instead leaning forward and kissing her over and over. 

“Don’t pass out, please?” you begged her, watching her hooded eyes, “there's loads of other things we could try.”

“I don’t think I can handle any more of your world’s advancements,” she groaned, making you smile. 

“Then let me treat you with something a little more.. old-fashioned.”

You tugged her underwear off before she could protest, and nestled your face into her dripping cunt, licking up all of her juices and revelling in how sweet she smelled.

“O-oh, oh my,” she cried out, hands grabbing your hair as you feasted. 

You knew her libido was relentless; she’d pounced on you one or two times in  a way that made it clear she could be very sex-driven. So you pushed her to a second and third orgasm with ease, feeling her go limp and boneless by the time you finally finished licking her clean.

She was still wearing that adorable sweater, her long hair fanned out over your pillows, one leg pushed out far enough to dangle off of the edge of the bed.

She said something Elvish under her breath, body arching and trembling in the aftershocks. You urged her to sit up, tugged off the sweater, and she attacked your face with kisses, muttering sweet nothings, half of which you couldn’t understand.

Your body melted at her words nonetheless, filled with love and desire, and she never seemed to stop kissing you, 

“I may be the luckiest Elf alive,” she sighed, “who else has ever experienced such pleasure?”

Her words made you grin, because to you it was a simple, effective toy, but to her it was another world, another life entirely, something new and exciting. And you got to be the one to give it to her. The thought made your head spin.

You were sitting on the bed and she had crawled into your lap again, dipping her head low to kiss you, and her body began rocking against your thigh, signalling her need for more.

“Again?” you asked, turning up the vibe once more, and her eyes shone with mischief. She nodded, and you knew sleep was still a long way off for you.

A/N: this is basically like, polar opposite of my Hela/reader style of writing, and I don’t mind one bit :D hope u liked it my loves! wasn’t there something where CB had said Elves don’t wear underwear? Yeah I agree taglist: @the-obscurity​